


Pirates and Prototypes

by the_flail_snail



Series: Pirates and Prototypes 'Verse [1]
Category: Dimension 20 (Web Series), Dimension 20: Fantasy High
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Amnesia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artificial Intelligence, Canon-Typical Violence, Conversations, Fabian is a Space Smuggler, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Riz is a Space Spy, Sci-fi versions of real mental health struggles:, Sexual Content, Space Battles, Spaceships, clone experiencing body dysmorphia, mentat with anxiety
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-20
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-02-18 04:56:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 19
Words: 41,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21505531
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_flail_snail/pseuds/the_flail_snail
Summary: “'Ah, you must be my contact,' Riz says, throwing himself exhaustedly into a booth at the back of the grimy spaceport bar."Riz is a spy, Fabian is a smuggler escorting him home from an undercover mission.
Relationships: Riz Gukgak/Fabian Aramais Seacaster
Series: Pirates and Prototypes 'Verse [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1804654
Comments: 170
Kudos: 507





	1. First Contact

**Author's Note:**

> I really wanted a fabriz space opera AU to exist in the world, so I started writing it. (This is all going to be deeply revealing of all my sci-fi favorites.)

“Ah, you must be my contact,” Riz says, throwing himself exhaustedly into a booth at the back of the grimy spaceport bar.

Riz has been undercover for months now, traveling through the crime-ridden stations and junkyards spread throughout the hazy nebula of the Red Wastes. 

He was investigating a new corporation which claimed it could manufacture true artificial intelligences to replace the mix of machine learning algorithms and computer assistants currently on the market. His partner, Adaine, found this deeply suspicious. While she uses her tech wizardry to take a crack at XV Korp’s mainframe, Riz took on the less glamorous work of searching for clues among the corporation’s trash satellites. 

Now, he has a prototype AI crystal to smuggle back to the moon of Solace, along with information on a few missing person cases from the area. Riz isn’t convinced they’re related, but he could never ignore a possible kidnapping, and something about all of the missing people being young women is setting off all sorts of alarms for him. 

But he could help these women more with his resources in Solace than out here in the Wastes. Adaine’s latest message was filled with static, but Riz was able to make out that she has a contact waiting to smuggle him home, and to look for a man with *fffzzztttt* and a *fffzzzttttt* eye.

Everything about the man in front of him screamed “pirate.” His empty eye socket is ringed by blinking sensory nodes tracking heat signatures and movement on his blind side. His long coat is belted at his waist but open over his bare chest. His shock of coarse white hair is artfully tousled and shaved at the sides in a pattern resembling a star map. At his side he has a blaster and... that couldn’t be a real sword? It was almost comically retro, like an ancient pirate from a storybook, sailing the seas instead of the stars. It’s also incredibly hot, but Riz tamps down that reaction. This is clearly the guy.

Riz feels uncomfortably grubby in comparison. He’s been passing as a cloud techie, just another itinerant goblin trying to find work with the big corporations whose salvage operations are spread throughout the nebula. His coveralls are stained with sweat and oil and grime, he knows he is twitching slightly from weeks of overdosing on stims, and his stubble is currently trying to decide if it wants to be a short beard instead. Even when he’s clean and immaculately dressed, Riz knows that his goblinoid features turn most people off. Facing this stylish stranger, Riz feels more body-conscious than he has in years.

Riz’s contact leans back in his seat, stretches his arms along the back of the dimly lit booth, and smiles. “Oh, I certainly am. You want to get back to my ship and get out of those clothes, Mr. ...?”

“I’d prefer not to get into names here,” Riz says curtly, bristling at the dig at his clothing. “How soon can you get me from here to Solace? I want to report in as soon as possible.”

“Hmm, yes, ‘spy stuff,’” the pirate says unhelpfully. “Well Solace is typically a two week journey, but if you put yourself in my capable hands I can get you wherever you need to go as fast or as slow as you want.”

“Fast, obviously,” Riz frowns. What’s with this guy? “Can we go right now, or do you have other business in the area?”

The pirate looks puzzled. “Right now? You don’t want to - I could buy you a drink first?”

“What? No, I’d rather just get to it,” Riz responds. 

“Well, alright then,” the pirate rolls his shoulders back and stands. “Follow me.”

Riz trails the man as he strides out of the bar, feeling like a short, scruffy shadow. Outside, the pirate bows and courteously directs Riz to a nearby hangar where some bots are finishing loading a couple of oblong containers into the most ostentatious spaceship Riz has ever seen. It looks more like a luxury yacht than a smuggler’s ship: Sleek red and black hull curved back around the open circular ring of the elemental engine. Wider than regulation viewing ports stretching along the sides. Big enough to fit a few passengers or crew, although the pirate currently seems to be on his own.

“Now that we’re here, is it time for introductions? I prefer to know the names of the people I invite home. This,” the pirate says, gesturing expansively at the ship, “is the Hangman. I believe the previous owner commissioned her for his sex parties, but that’s just rumor.” He grins down at Riz. “She may still look like a rich man’s bauble, but I’ve added a number of surprises since I stole her. She’s fast and deadly and nobody’s toy.”

“I am Captain Fabian Aramais Seacaster.” A dark look crosses his face that Riz is unable to decipher. “I am also no one’s toy.”

Riz stands at a tired approximation of attention and pulls his badge from a concealed pocket. “Riz Gukgak, Cipher Agent for the Solesian Lunar Council.”

“Oh, you really are...” 

“Captain Seacaster, I appreciate the fact that you’ve volunteered to escort me home. The Council will be sure to reward you when we arrive. Given the fact that I’ve been undercover for a while,” Riz wryly gestures at his stained clothing, “I am unable to pay you up front.” 

“Not to worry,” Seacaster frowns. “I’m taking on some cargo anyway.” He gestures behind him, still looking at Riz’s badge. He looks, disappointed?

Riz clears his throat. He’s trying not to be rude, but... “I have to ask—your cargo?”

“Oh, almost certainly illegal, but a good smuggler doesn’t ask too many question,” Seacaster explains, quirking an eyebrow at Riz’s obvious curiosity. “I trust my contacts in the same way you can trust me, Agent Gukgak.” 

Riz must look skeptical, because Seacaster smiles and elaborates. “The Lady A is - a friend. She knows I don’t handle necro-labor or the more dangerous neurophages and pharmas. She probably has me hauling Baronese whisky or the latest knock-off Silksteel fashions.

...Speaking of drugs, now that I’ve got you in the light you look like you’ve been surviving on stims for weeks.” Seacaster looks concerned. Unnecessary. Riz must be misreading. He’s probably just worried Riz will become hyperactive mid-voyage.

“I’m fine,” Riz grumbles, peeling at the latest stim patch on his bony wrist. Truthfully he’s at the limit of what even he would consider safe, but he can push himself a little longer. There’s still work to do. He wants to go over his notes again, see if there’s something he missed, some connection that should be obvious...

Captain Seacaster has barely enough time to catch Riz as he faints.


	2. Novum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spaceship tours and breakfast conversations

Riz wakes in an unfamiliar and uncomfortably luxurious bed surrounded by stars. He dimly remembers Captain Seacaster carrying him on board, but nothing after that. Turning over with a groan, the blinking light of a chronometer near his head tells Riz he’s slept for over 18 hours. Space travel always messes with Riz’s sleep, but he begrudgingly admits that he’s experiencing all of the classic symptoms of stim crash. 

Including the voracious hunger. Riz sits up and swings his legs over the side of the bed, belatedly realizing that he’s completely naked. Riz is mortified by the thought of Captain Seacaster carrying him into the ship and peeling off his clothes. Maybe under other circumstances, but... It makes sense. Seacaster clearly wouldn’t want a grubby goblin messing up his sheets. But it does leave Riz with a dilemma. 

“He- hello?” Riz croaks out. “Ship? Shit, I forgot to ask if there’s a computer interface. Where are my clothes? And does this room have a light?”

The room slowly fills with a dim glow, answering one of Riz’s questions and revealing that the large bed he’s been sleeping in takes up one side of what looks, from the piles of clothes, to be Seacaster’s personal quarters. 

Riz tries to orient himself. The ceiling is almost entirely taken up by the viewing port curving overhead, so the captain’s quarters must be located at the top of the ship. He peers up at the stars, trying to guess their current location. No more hazy red nebula at least, but he doesn’t know this star system well enough to tell beyond that.

The voice growling at him from a speaker answers Riz’s other questions.

Most computer assistants are programmed to sound like young women. Something about market research showing people listen more closely to stereotypically feminine voices. Riz privately thinks that’s bullshit—rich tech wizards wanting to pretend they have a charming young secretary, and trying to justify their choices after the fact. 

The computer for the Hangman sounds like a demon from hell.

The ship rumbles, “Your clothes are cleaned and await you in the bathroom. I will alert the Captain you are awake. He wishes to make... breakfast.”

“O... kay. Breakfast.” Riz is not prepared for this. He hesitates before wrapping a sheet around himself in an improvised toga and tentatively pads over to poke his head into the bathroom.

Riz almost moans when he sees a real shower, an unimaginable luxury in this corner of space. It’s been months since Riz had access to anything more than a glitchy communal sonic cleaner, for clothes and person. He scrambles into the shower and spends a blissful few minutes just standing under the stream of hot water before he reminds himself that even the best designed ships can’t recycle all of their used water.

Exiting the shower, Riz finds that his clothes and belongings are neatly lined up for him on a bench. His techie coveralls, underwear, and socks must have gone through several cleanings to look this acceptably worn. Even his boots have been cleaned. 

Riz quickly dresses and secrets the rest of his gear away, switching to a new system of hidden pockets and uncomfortably aware that a stranger—and a smuggler—must have gone through his things: the prototype, concealed arcublaster, his few remaining credit chits, real Solesian badge, fake Baronese badge, stim stash, waterproof notebook (handwritten, to avoid tech surveillance, and written in the code that he and Adaine developed together during a late night of studying and spiraling). 

Everything is still there, but Riz feels exposed. He almost wishes Seacaster had dumped him in a storage room to sleep off his stim crash instead of extending him this careful courtesy. 

Feeling more put-together, Riz descends into the main area of the ship, fastening up his coveralls and smoothing his wet hair away from his face as he turns around.

Awkwardly, he seems to have stumbled into the middle of a conversation. Captain Seacaster is leaning against a wall talking to a woman projected over a circular glowing console in the center of what looks like a large navigation room adjoining the pilot’s seat. It makes sense that the captain’s quarters would directly connect to navigation, Riz thinks. He automatically catalogues possible exits and hiding places as he listens in, unsure if he should announce himself.

The short, pleasant-looking, middle aged woman wearing a labcoat is mid-sentence. “... good to be seeing you again, Master Wil- Master Fabian. Sorry, old habits.” 

Seacaster grimaces and waves a hand. “It’s fine, Cathilda, I know you mean well. How is mama? Any new experiments?”

“Well, Hallariel has me helping with her ‘fermentation experiments’ lately, but she did mention starting up the genomics project again...”

“Oh for fuck’s sake, why can’t she take up a safer hobby, like sword fighting?” 

The woman—Cathilda—chuckles at what seems to be a shared reference, and seems to catch sight of Riz standing awkwardly in the background.

“Ah, I’m sorry to interrupt, Master Fabian, but it seems your paramour is awake.” 

Seacaster startles and quickly turns around. Riz can feel himself flushing, reevaluating how it must look for him to climb down from Seacaster’s quarters, dripping wet and partially dressed. “Ah, hmm, yes,” Seacaster mumbles, gazing at Riz. “Well, Cathilda, it’s been lovely. Give my best to mama and my worst to Gilear.” 

Seacaster smiles at his - friend? associate? aunt? - and ends the call. “Well, Agent Gukgak, you’ve decided to join us.” 

Riz must have projected his own discomfort onto Seacaster, since there’s no sign of awkwardness on his face now as he smiles down at Riz. “Welcome to the Hangman, again. I can get you your own quarters, I just didn’t have anything set up and - I suppose it’s a bit of a mess up there. Apologies. You found everything ok? What am I saying, of course you did—you’re clothed, and, ah, wet... Tour of the ship? Or, breakfast and then tour?”

Coming from Riz this would be babbling, but Seacaster just comes across as effusive. Riz can’t help grinning. “You know, on my journey out to the Wastes, I had to sneak aboard a garbage scow. I could get used to traveling in style.”

“Well, I’m nothing if not stylish,” Seacaster blinks his eye slowly. Or was that a wink? Couldn’t be. Focus, Riz. The charming smuggler is definitely not flirting with you. 

“Follow me.”

Riz gets a partial tour on the way to the galley anyway, as Seacaster gestures to “Piloting, navigation and tactics, med lab (pretty disorganized right now, sorry), crew or passenger quarters. I’m experimenting with hydroponics, for longer voyages. I’ll have to show you engineering later, along with the cargo bay, as long as you promise not to snoop through my cargo.” Seacaster flashes a quick grin. He must be the kind of man who feels a sense of pride in his property; he seems very invested in what Riz thinks of his ship. Riz does his best to smile and nod while continuing to memorize the layout and scan for hiding spots. 

“And most importantly for now, the galley!” Like everything else Riz has seen of the ship, the galley is an odd mix of ulta-fancy design and slightly battered mess. It’s kind of nice, gives the place a lived-in quality when the high-end cookware is stuffed haphazardly into cupboards and the nearby table and couches are cluttered with starmaps and a partially-disassembled blaster rifle. 

Riz isn’t sure if he should stay, but Seacaster points him to a chair while he rolls up his sleeves and steps into the narrow galley. Riz had been carefully making eye-contact to avoid looking anywhere else. On his ship, Seacaster seems to forgo the piratical coat in favor of a shirt which hangs down to... which opens at.. well, Riz isn’t convinced it even qualifies as a shirt. And it’s... lack of shirt-ness is right at Riz’s eye level, which is really unfair. Covering it up with an apron is a different kind of attractive, but it does make it easier to look without staring. 

“So, that was... your Aunt?” Riz asks, to make conversation. This is bringing back memories of hanging out in the kitchen with his mom, at least when she had time and money to make more than re-heated nutripaste. He’s barely met this smuggler, but Riz is already starting to feel comfortable around him. 

Seacaster turns to him with a dashing smile, and Riz decides it isn’t actually comfort that he’s feeling. More like the desperate longing for companionship after a long, solitary mission. He tamps down the feeling.

“My family situation is... strange, I suppose,” Seacaster says, thoughtfully selecting a frying pan. “My mother is a great scientist, when she’s sober. Cathilda manages her lab, and is really the one who raised me. Taught me to cook, as well, although I’m not sure I retained much,” Seacaster shrugs. Riz notes the lack of mention of any father, and mentally files it away under “obsessive facts about Fabian Seacaster,” but he’s too polite, or too habitually cautious, to ask.

Riz feels he owes some reply. He struggles to think of a non-confidential way to talk about himself. “I obviously can’t tell you much about my family, but I was also raised by my mom. She’s a total bad-ass—I could probably give you her name and it wouldn’t even matter, since she’s too competent to ever be kidnapped. Not that you would...!”

“It’s fine,” Seacaster looks away. “You don’t need to trust me. I’m a smuggler, I get it...”

“No, it’s not that, it’s just...” Riz trails off. “It’s half habit, at this point, to just not talk about myself. But you’re under contract with my government for this trip. I mean, I already gave you my real name...” 

Seacaster grins at that. “I did suspect ‘Riz Gukgak’ was a little too distinctive for an alias. Although I suppose sometimes you might assume a name to make you stand out more.”

“Oh god, no,” Riz sputters and laughs, “I’m definitely not the kind of spy you want to stand out in a crowd.”

“Hmm?” Seacaster says distractedly, “Why not? I’m sure you’d be great—designer suits, flashy parties, charming information out of people... Food’s up.”

Riz shakes his head at Seacaster’s ridiculous description of him. Charm is definitely not his forte. But he doesn’t correct him—let this attractive smuggler think well of Riz for a little longer. He’s already seen you at your grimiest, he has no reason to be impressed, a traitorous voice in Riz’s head chimes in, but Riz drowns out the voice with food.

Seacaster’s cooking seems to be more enthusiastic than skilled, concocting a mix of prefab food packages with a few fresh ingredients he must have picked up before the Wastes. It’s breakfast in the way that any meal could be breakfast in space, as an attempt to demarcate the days. Riz is so ravenous he could devour the packaging, and almost does in his hurry to eat. Seacaster picks at his own food and clears his throat when he sees Riz slowing down.

“Ok, Mr. Spy, you obviously can’t give away too many personal details, but what made you want to be a spy? It seems - lonely.”

“It’s not lonely most of the time.” Riz thinks. “Just on these long undercover stretches. Normally I work with my partner—she’s the one who contacted you about transporting me. When we’re working together, it’s like... we’re so in sync we’re bouncing ideas off each other faster than we could form them on our own. I guess I like that feeling—being part of a team, solving important puzzles.”

Seacaster looks wistful at the description of Riz and Adaine’s weird detective synergy, so Riz gets up the courage to ask, “Do you -? I know you have contacts, but do you always work alone?”

“I’ve teamed up with people before for the odd job or heist—if you ever need a good con woman, or some muscle, I can hook you up—but nothing for a while, and nothing permanent. Now that I’ve got the Hangman, I really should get a crew together.”

Riz asks how he got the Hangman and Seacaster recounts an entire adventure of high stakes gambling, anarchist cooperatives, subterfuge, chases, reversals, and escapes. Seacaster can’t seem to contain his adventures within the boundaries of his body, and he ends up standing on a chair and rearranging furniture, leftover food, and even Riz himself in order to illustrate his final escape from the mortally wounded Captain Spells and his posse. Riz is left laughing harder than he’s laughed in months. 

Seacaster is a fascinating man, but Riz can feel the exhaustion sinking into his muscles. “I’m either going to sleep for another day, or power through with another stim,” Riz yawns. 

He laughs at Seacaster’s disapproving look. “All right, all right, I’ll take it easy on the stims. I just figured it’s more interesting to have a passenger who’s awake. Not that - I mean - I can stay out of your hair too.” Riz mentally kicks himself. 

Seacaster has an odd look on his face again. “Oh, you can certainly be in my hair. You’re an interesting man, Agent Gukgak.” He leads the way back to the living quarters and points Riz to a small room with a freshly-made bed and a computer terminal. 

“Its small, but - the view is nice. I love space travel.” Seacaster seems to realize how inane his words sound, and shakes his head with an embarrassed smile.

Riz smiles tiredly back. “I love space travel too. It either means I’m going home or starting something new.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Novum" in science fiction is a scientific or technological gizmo or device which drives the plot forward, but it also just means "new thing"
> 
> I have a Tumblr @the-flail-snail


	3. Raygun Gothic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabian runs into an old acquaintance, Riz tries an unconventional tactic

Riz wakes earlier than Seacaster this time, and quietly conducts his own tour of the ship, identifying any equipment he doesn’t recognize and evaluating potential weaknesses. He feels guilty as he does so—Seacaster seemed perfectly willing to show Riz around—but it’s second nature now to scope out anywhere he stays.

The ship seems to basically consist of two sections—the living quarters he saw the day before, and the engine and cargo bay, connected by a narrow corridor. Riz doesn’t snoop through the cargo, at least—he can respect Seacaster’s request there.

After satisfying his curiosity about the ship, Riz uses the quiet to check out the AI prototype. Adaine could get more out of it, but Riz is still curious. He powers up the crystal and sits back as it projects a life-sized hologram of a young woman. “I am your personal artificial aide. My capacities include predictive analysis, along with data collation and investigation. My designation is SM-01. My default name is ‘Samantha,’ but you may program me to respond to any name.”

Riz frowns. Something’s not right here. The language all sounds standard, but there’s something off about the AI’s expressiveness. It seems perfectly emotionless, but... He watches the hologram for a minute, and can’t catch any repeated programmed movements. It’s an incredible level of detail for a projection. Sighing, he switches the prototype off and makes a note to ask Adaine about holographic animation. Maybe he should also consult a specialist in these types of projection interfaces.

“What’s that?” Seacaster says behind him, making Riz startle and nearly drop his notebook. “Sorry! Sorry—I thought you knew I was here.”

“It’s...” Riz hesitates, but he still feels guilty about snooping around Seacaster’s ship. There’s no harm in answering the basic question, at least. “It’s something I’m looking into. A new type of computer assistant that’s supposed to be true AI, instead of just an advanced learning algorithm. There’s something about it that I... something’s wrong, but I can’t figure out what.”

“That must be aggravating—you seem like someone who normally has all the answers,” Seacaster leans over his shoulder to peer at the device and Riz checks his conflicting impulses to either lean in to the warmth of his body or move away.

“I’ve heard about these—thought about upgrading the Hangman’s computer systems to a new AI, but they’re not compatible with the current voice package.” Seacaster shrugs. “You said something is wrong with this one?”

The Hangman’s computer interrupts before Riz can blurt out more confidential intel. “Captain, there is an incoming message.”

“Anyone we know?” Seacaster asks, but he’s already pulling on his coat and grabbing his weapons in preparation for conflict.

“We are being hailed by a ship. The message ID is unknown.”

Seacaster nods. “You might want to stay out of sight, Agent Gukgak. I’ll take the call in navigation. Hangman, prep the weapon systems just in case.”

He strides out of the room. Riz trails after, curious to see how Seacaster handles a crisis, but he carefully stays out of sight. Seacaster runs his hands over his face before standing straight and plastering a confident smile on his face.

When he opens the channel, the computer projects an image straight out of a nightmare—an illithid stares balefully at Seacaster, tentacles shifting menacingly in the blue light of the hologram.

“Well well well, ‘Captain’ Seacaster,” the illithid snarls. “I’ve caught up with you at last. I have been looking forward to cracking your skull open to see if there are any brains inside.”

“Are you perhaps looking for another Captain Seacaster?” Seacaster quips, “Wicklaw, you’re chasing a dead man—Bill Seacaster doesn’t exist anymore, and even if you kill me you can’t touch his legacy.”

Seacaster cuts off the message as the other man rears back and lets out an otherworldly shriek. Riz can feel his hairs standing on end—it’s hard to control the impulse to run, even though he knows it’s just a projection.

“Ah, Agent Gukgak, slight difficulty.” Seacaster looks a little bashful, like they’ve been interrupted by an awkward acquaintance instead of an angry mind flayer. Underneath his casual attitude, though, Riz can see he looks spooked. “We might be under attack. My fault. Well, partially my fault.”

“Do you want help?” Riz asks, already heading to the tactical array he scoped out earlier this morning.

“Only if you - actually, yes.” Seacaster says, moving toward the piloting seat. “I might have my hands full dodging this guy, if you’re able to shoot off some rounds? Careful with the proton missiles, though—I don’t have a limitless supply.”

Riz nods, quickly pulling up an external display and calculating speed and trajectories as Seacaster takes the Hangman off autopilot and turns her around.

Looming in front of them is a massive Nautiloid Spelljammer, layers of decking mingled with the curled conch shell body and grasping tentacles of some ancient star-faring creature. Several smaller shelled fighter ships release from its base, flying towards the Hangman. The Hangman is fast, but the other ships are faster—this could be a tough fight.

Seacaster may have stolen the Hangman recently, but he handles her masterfully, pulling away from the pursuit only to suddenly turn and dive into their midst, scattering and confusing the enemy pilots.

Riz focuses on one fighter as it weaves around, picking up on its patterns of movement until—“Hold us steady for a sec!”—he locks on a missile and blows it apart.

“Nice shooting, Gukgak!” Seacaster calls over as Riz whoops triumphantly. “I’m going to try to trail another one. See if you can pull that off again.”

It takes two missiles for the next ship—Riz swears as it suddenly cuts its speed, but he quickly recalculates. He looks for another, and frowns at the tactical display. Something is off about this fight.

“Seacaster, shouldn’t they all be firing at us? The smaller ships are, but the Nautilus is just... sitting there.”

Seacaster glances back at the tactical display. “You’re right, they should be, unless... Damn!” He switches back to autopilot and rushes over. “Those bastards are going to try to ram us!”

He puts his arms around Riz to brace them both, as the Nautilus’s elemental engines flare to life and it suddenly speeds towards the Hangman. The impact rocks Riz back into Seacaster’s chest, and several of the displays start fizzling and smoking.

“Hangman, report?” Seacaster coughs.

“Captain, the ram has damaged our hull but not the engine. Ten of the pirates disembarked and are currently cutting their way through the cargo bay airlock.”

Seacaster turns and hesitates for half a second before reaching out to place his hands on Riz’s shoulders. “Riz, stay here, where it’s safe. I’ll deal with these intruders. I’m not running this time. If - if anything happens to me, you can collapse the walkway to the engine section—there should be enough residual power in the front section to get you to the nearest port.”

Seacaster flashes a smile, draws his sword, and rushes out before Riz can protest. Riz partially takes out his feelings by shooting down a third fighter. He knows he has important intel to protect, but the thought of Seacaster fighting alone and outnumbered...

Riz pulls out his arcublaster and runs to the back of the ship.

Outside the cargo bay, Riz stealths and peers inside to assess the situation. Seacaster is cornered, dueling three pirates at once, many others dead at his feet. It’s like he can move three times as fast as his opponents, keeping them at close range where his honest-to-god real pirate saber is giving him the advantage over their blasters. Riz can hear him taunting the pirates as he fights. He doesn’t seem aware of the fourth pirate sneaking up.

“Fabian, behind you,” Riz calls out, risking his stealth to get in a warning.

Seacaster whips around, using his momentum to slice across the surprised pirate’s stomach, and then turns and salutes Riz with his bloody sword. Riz should probably not find this so attractive.

Riz fires off a careful shot, killing one of the closer pirates, and moves to hide again. As he moves, arms clamp down over his arms and Riz is lifted into the air. Tentacles surround his mouth and face, and Riz can feel a beak scrape across the back of his skull, not damaging him—yet—but a clear warning to stay still.

“Surrender, Seacaster, or I might have to drive your little friend out of his mind.” Captain Wicklaw glides out from behind a crate, Riz struggling in his arms.

Riz wishes he’d worked out some signal with Seacaster in advance, a set of blinks or finger movements to let him know not to surrender himself like an idiot.

Seacaster has just stabbed through one of the few remaining pirates, so he leaves the sword in the other man’s chest as a gesture of surrender and raises his hands. “You’re here for me, so let him go and we’ll settle this.”

What the hell is he thinking? There’s no strategy here. If Wicklaw kills Seacaster, Riz is pretty much dead anyway, or at least trapped on a ship with someone who’s unlikely to honor a dead man’s bargain.

As Riz mentally scrambles to come up with a plan, he hears Wicklaw’s voice slither inside his head. _Oh, you’re a clever one? I love devouring the clever ones. They always think they can escape. Go ahead, goblin. I’m listening to every panicked thought you have, but maybe you’ll get lucky._

Riz goes still with shock at the invasion of his mind. If he can’t get the advantage through insight then... then he’ll do the opposite.

Riz concentrates only on Seacaster, relying on his own attraction to the man to be a good distraction, and doesn’t let himself think about the small pouch of stims he has tucked up his sleeve.

Seacaster is begging Wicklaw to let Riz go, promising his cargo, his ship, his cooperation in exchange. Riz allows himself to feel all of the desperate longing he would otherwise refuse to acknowledge. Fabian can’t really intend to risk his ship or his life for a twitchy goblin he’s barely met, but Riz builds up the fantasy in his head, a romantic fling with the smuggler, a different reason to wake up naked in his bed, intimate conversations and stolen kisses.

Wicklaw cackles in mind, amused by Riz’s regret and pain at his unrequited feelings, and Riz uses the moment to jam as many stim patches onto his arm as he can fit.

The stims enter Riz’s bloodstream, and everything speeds up. His thoughts race alongside his heart-rate, half-formed plans, feelings, connections, all accompanied by the same repeating two lines of a song Riz partially knows from his youth. _I wonder if people ever try to eat illithid? Could you deep fry those tentacles? I wonder if they’d regrow? *mm mmm hey* How does that chorus go? I bet punk illithids are into, like, extreme face tentacle body modding.*doop wa doop, something something like you* How can Wicklaw know what I’ll do if I don’t even know? As long as my heart doesn’t explode, I’ve got this. If my heart does explode, I’m definitely kissing Fabian before I die._

Wicklaw staggers backward, disoriented from Riz’s hyperactive thoughts and the... huh, yeah, looks like those floating points of light might be hallucinations. Riz uses the opportunity to escape from his grasp, lurching sideways and biting at one tentacle. _Ew, gross, bad plan, Riz—don’t eat the illithid._

With a shout, Fabian whips his sword out of the dead pirate and stabs Wicklaw through the heart, shoving him backward towards - the airlock! Riz ducks around, scrambling at the airlock controls and batting at hallucinatory lights while projecting all of his chaotic thoughts at Wicklaw.

Fabian pulls his cutlass out in a spray of silvery-white blood and kicks Wicklaw backward just as Riz manages to get the doors open. Wicklaw snarls through the airlock door, sending out one last psionic blast, but it’s already too late. Riz grins and waves goodbye as the illithid is blown backwards into space, shrieking as the cold vacuum and harsh starlight hits his skin.

Riz is laughing from the adrenaline high of the fight and the drugs as he quickly peels the stims off his skin. Fabian picks him up and pulls him close. “That was incredible! You - is that common spy training? You’re a maniac! How did you know that would work? Are you hurt? I’m so sorry I almost got you killed.”

Riz is suddenly aware of Fabian’s proximity, as he runs his hands over Riz’s skull and down his front, checking for injuries. Fabian looks up from Riz’s body, reaches out to to touch the trickle of blood at Riz’s lip. _He’s going to kiss me_ , Riz thinks to himself. But Fabian—Seacaster—no, goddamn it, Fabian—pulls back instead.

“Well, it’s no spy puzzle, but I think we make a good team,” Fabian says, and there’s something in his voice, a mix of fondness and exasperation, that Riz has heard from him before but can’t let himself over-analyze.

“Ye-yeah,” Riz says eloquently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t think you could actually defeat a mind flayer with the power of ADHD, but I liked the idea. Originally this was going to be a fight with Johnny Spells, but after the last few D20 live shows I rewrote it a bit.
> 
> I’m on tumblr @the-flail-snail


	4. Ansible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riz does some spy work, and Fabian makes a bargain.

_It isn’t stalking, not really_ , Riz lies to himself as he searches “Fabian Aramais Seacaster” on both the public and encrypted databases his spy work gives him access to. It’s very normal to want to know more about the dashing smuggler with whom he’s spending weeks alone. Imagining himself into Fabian’s life and bed to trap the mind flayer has put Riz into a spiral of feelings that he would normally be better at repressing. This is not the time, or the place, or - or the man. He remembers hearing stories about a corner of space where the interactions between wormholes and stars creates eddies of fast-moving temporal currents—just a folktale, but Riz feels like he’s flown into such a place.

He’s holed up in his quarters several days after the adrenaline high of the almost-kiss. Fabian has been relaxed around Riz, spending time together, cracking jokes, comparing fighting techniques. He’s clearly immune to the tense touch-starved sensitivity that Riz has been feeling. Thank god Riz is a spy, or he’d have given away his desperate crush by now.

Riz frowns as his search results in nothing. There are plenty of records for a William Seacaster, an older bearded man with a strong resemblance to Fabian, but absolutely no references to Fabian Aramais across any of Riz’s public and spy databases. He digs a little further.

William Seacaster (b.3492-d.3554), wealthy shipping tycoon and—Riz double checks his confidential files—pirate, married to Dr. Hallariel Seacaster, died a number of years ago during some sort of attack on his estate, no acknowledged children.

So, maybe Fabian is illegitimate? But he referred to Hallariel as his mother.

Riz tries again.

Hallariel Seacaster (b.3320-), geneticist and researcher specializing in life extension technologies, formally at the Lomenelda Technical Institute. Lists of publications, awards, grants. Left her research post when she married William. No children.

Riz slumps back, frustrated. Seacaster is an unusual name, and Fabian is a showy man. It makes no sense that he would leave no trace in a galaxy built around information.

Riz draws on all of his his training, pulling up receipts, contracts, surveillance images, underworld rumors, any data he can find. Finally, he gets lucky, coming across a grainy image of a young Fabian sitting in a lab, a threatening letter to William Seacaster from a rival obliquely mentioning unethical experiments and human testing, and a receipt signed H.SC. for a high-end gene splicer and one synthetic uterine system.

Remembering Cathilda’s verbal slip into “Master Wil-,” it’s not hard for Riz to put together the pieces. Fabian isn’t William Seacaster’s child—he’s his clone.

Well, shit. The thrill of solving a tricky puzzle wears off quickly, as Riz sits back, realizing he’s let his curiosity get out of hand. Fabian isn’t a target or an enemy, but he’s allowed his awkward crush to push him into treating him as one. He doesn’t know a lot about cloning, but he knows it’s generally illegal, or at least frowned upon—a way of using another being to extend your own life. If this information is accurate—and Riz trusts his own investigative skills—then he’s uncovered a piece of private information that Fabian would likely hate for him to have.

He feels like a lovesick idiot sniffing through his crush’s underwear.

It’s unacceptable that Riz searched this deeply through Fabian’s past, but would it compound matters to come clean to Fabian now? They’re approaching Solace soon, and Riz will likely never see him again. It’s a bitter thought, but Riz could just ignore his guilty conscience to avoid a difficult conversation.

 _It would matter to me_ , Riz decides. It’s going to be awkward, but he needs to make amends.

Riz finds Fabian working out in the cargo bay. Which is very unfair. Fabian has graduated from barely a shirt to no shirt at all. The temptation to just stand here watching all of Fabian’s back muscles move as he pulls himself up to a bar...

“Fabian, I... I need to talk to you. I found something out.”

Fabian drops down and turns around, smiling. “Something about that AI you’re studying?” He prompts.

“No, uh, something about you.”

Fabian looks confused, and then cautious and closed off. Riz hadn’t fully realized how open Fabian was with him until seeing him put up barriers.

“I... accidentally found out some information when double checking...”

Riz clears his throat and tries again.

“I was snooping. I’m sorry, it’s a terrible habit. I’m a spy! and - and that’s no excuse. I figured out that you’re a clone.”

“You - how could you even -?“

“I just unencrypted some files and cross referenced them with some criminal records—it’s a pretty simple investigative trick, I could show you...”

Fabian has gone from closed off to coldly angry.

“I didn’t mean! I was just - I’m sorry, Fabian.” Riz winces and curls in on himself. Fabian just looks at him and looks away.

“It’s a good thing you’re useful, Gukgak, because sometimes you’re really fucking annoying.”

Riz watches as Fabian storms out. This is great. Making amends is just a fantastic idea.

The next few days are tense. Fabian will barely look at him, and Riz feels stuck—stuck on the solution to his officially sanctioned investigation, stuck in a cycle of guilt and recriminations for spying on his crush. The Hangman has never felt so small. Riz takes to sneaking in and out of the galley and spending most of his time in his room.

It’s much, much later when Fabian shows up at Riz’s quarters. Riz looks up from where he’d been staring at... nothing really. Fabian leans against the doorframe and crosses his arms.

“So, you went snooping because you wanted to find out more about me?”

Riz nods.

Fabian sighs. “I don’t really find you annoying, I didn’t mean that. But you’ve got to realize how weirdly invasive this is.”

Riz nods again. He’s not sure what to say, or if anything he tries won’t just shove his foot deeper into his mouth.

Fabian looks like he’s reached a decision, “Ok then, Mr. Spy, let’s trade. You now know some very private information about me. Tell me about yourself—I want an equal exchange of intel.”

Riz perks up at the chance to make this right, but, oh god, what could be the equivalent of ‘I’m an illegal clone?’

“Ok, uh, I’m Riz Gukgak, I’m 31, I was born in Solace...” Riz looks at Fabian for confirmation that this is what he wants. “My mom is named Sklonda. She’s a detective.” _Just gotta keep talking. Maybe he’ll stay if you keep talking_.

More personal details come tumbling out, banal everyday things mixed with secrets.

“My dad was murdered, when I was a kid. Um, I don’t like telling people that. We caught the guy, but it was still, really rough. I was the one who fought the Harvest Men on Helio, me and Adaine, and another friend—ha, that one’s a state secret, I’m not supposed to tell people that! I have trouble sleeping, and I forget to eat half of the time. I’m gay. I really hate creamed corn. My first boyfriend was this complete asshole named Baron. I used to carry a briefcase everywhere as a kid...”

“Ok, ok,” Fabian holds out his hands and huffs out a laugh. Riz tentatively tries a smile.

Fabian takes a breath. “Well, I’m Fabian Aramais Seacaster. I’m roughly 33 or 34, although I don’t have an exact birth date because I wasn’t exactly born... As a clone, legally, I _am_ William Seacaster, which means legally, I’m dead. My ability to own property, gain citizenship, enter contracts—it’s all in a bit of a legal limbo, and it varies from place to place. Did you know, on some planets I have the legal status of a pet, or a fancy tech toy?”

Riz winces in sympathy, and Fabian gives him a bitter smile.

“Bill... papa... began to see me as my own person before he died, but mostly I was a beloved projection of his own ambitions. Just a copy, never the original. He was such an awe-inspiring, terrifying, forceful man—I loved him, and I’m still figuring out who I am without him.”

“A copy...” Riz repeats. There’s something pinging at the back of his mind, some connection... He quickly pulls out his notebook.

“Riz, have you already zoned out?” Fabian sounds amused. “I haven’t even said if I’ve forgiven you yet. I’m pretty sure you need to spill at least a dozen more secrets.”

Riz is only half-listening. “Fabian, you’re brilliant! They’re not prototypes, they’re copies! Look,” he pulls out his list of missing persons and stands up to show it to Fabian.

“Katya Cleaver, Antiope Jones, Danielle Barkstock, _Sam Nightingale_ … _Samantha_ … I didn’t even think of it until you mentioned progenitors and copies!"

“Well, I glad my personal trauma is so useful to you,” Fabian quips, but he looks intrigued.

“I knew there was a connection!” Riz starts pacing and gesturing wildly.

“How much money would it cost to develop a genuine AI? How much to replicate that software and hardware to sell it? It’s so much cheaper to kidnap someone—someone most people would overlook—and, and copy them somehow. I still don’t know how this would work, but I think this _is_ Sam Nightingale, or at least some duplicate of her consciousness.”

Riz switches the prototype on, and the ghostly hologram of the willowy young woman flickers in the dim light of the room. “It’s not near-human consciousness, it’s human consciousness, filtered across space though some sort of interface.”

They both stare at the projection of the emotionless young woman until Riz finally switches it off.

“Is she still alive, somewhere?” Fabian finally asks.

“She has to be,” Riz says with a confidence he almost feels. “I’m going to find her, and I’m going to kill the bastards who did this.”

Fabian gives him a real smile at that, and Riz begins to feel hopeful that he hasn’t permanently damaged something. “Why did you decide to give me another chance?”

Fabian hesitates. “You found out I was a clone, but you still called me by my name—the name I chose for myself. Not many people would do that.” He grins. “Now, tell me more about this briefcase.”

They spend the rest of the night trading facts and secrets. It starts with data points, but quickly spills into feelings and stories—how Riz feels about his dad, being bullied as a kid, coming out, family traditions with his mom. Fabian shares less than Riz, but he elaborates on what it was like to be raised as almost a trophy and almost a child, and how he feels now as someone with powerful family connections but no way to legally establish himself under his own name.

Riz hasn’t felt this exposed since... well, since he found out Fabian had gone through his pockets and carefully cleaned his clothes on that first day. The only important secret Riz holds back is the way his heart starts skipping around whenever Fabian turns his attention to him, but that’s... that would be too personal to both of them to come back from, and there’s so little time left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An ansible is originally from an Ursula K. Le Guin novel, although it crops up elsewhere--it's a device that lets you send and receive messages at faster-than-light speeds, across star systems. Or, something that lets you communicate across a distance.


	5. Pocket Universe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabian comes clean, and Riz nearly falls over several times

Riz has been careful about not counting the days he has left in an effort to extend this bubble of time with Fabian, but he isn’t entirely taken by surprise when Fabian comes to find him holding two glasses and a bottle of smuggled whiskey.

“Last night, Riz—we’ll reach Solace sometime tomorrow morning. Share a drink? I can’t promise it’s legal, but it is good quality.”

“I’d love to.”

They don’t talk much, at first, but after a couple of drinks they start sharing stories, laughing about their fight with the pirates and talking about other fights, other adventures they’ve had separately. Riz asks if Fabian has ever smuggled a spy somewhere before, wanting to be the first, wanting some sign that this trip was different. Fabian hesitates.

“Riz, I should come clean about something. You’ve been very honest with me. I, ah, I wasn’t actually supposed to be your contact.”

“What? You... Why?“ Riz knows that he isn’t drunk, but he feels like the world just shifted around him.

Fabian shrugs, laughing awkwardly. “I thought it was some sort of pick up line. Sometimes people lie or put on a big show to get me into bed. ‘I’m a spy and you’re my contact’ was a fun scenario. I was intrigued.”

“Fabian, I was visibly twitching and covered in grime!” Riz needs to reevaluate everything—every gesture, every conversation. _It wasn’t just me._

“I thought you’d clean up well, and... I liked the confidence.” Fabian smiles down into his drink.

Looking over at Fabian as he pushes his glass from hand to hand, Riz thinks to himself, _Fuck it._

His chair scrapes back as he stands and moves closer, sliding his hand across Fabian’s jaw to tilt his head up.

“There’s only one more night—let’s have one night,” Riz says quietly, giving Fabian the chance to pull away, to laugh off his request.

Fabian looks surprised, and then pleased, and he pulls Riz down into a kiss. It’s a very tender kiss at first, and Fabian pulls away after an exploratory minute to ask, “Are you sure?”

Riz laughs. “You’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen—of course I’m sure!”

That seems to be all the confirmation Fabian needs to pull Riz onto his lap and start kissing him in earnest. He runs his hands up Riz’s back and into his hair. _After all that self-denial, all I had to do was sit on him_ , Riz thinks ruefully to himself.

“So, I’m a spy and you’re my contact,” Riz prompts, sliding his hands from Fabian’s jaw down to his shoulders. “Where to from there?”

“Normally I’d ask your place or mine,” Fabian growls into Riz’s neck, “but right now I’d really like to get you into my bed.”

“No - no objections here,” Riz squeaks.

Fabian picks up Riz and carries him on a reverse tour of the ship—galley, hydroponics, crew quarters. They stop off at the med bay, laughing and swearing as Fabian tries to program the replicator to make some lube without putting Riz down. Riz finally takes charge, leaning around Fabian to blindly press buttons until something useful comes out. (“Fabian, why is your replicator pre-programmed to make yogurt?” “It’s... complicated. Family stuff. Don’t ask.”)

Lube pocketed, Fabian backs Riz into the ladder up to his quarters, kissing each stretch of skin revealed as he begins to unfasten Riz’s coveralls. It’s all Riz can do to keep hold of the rungs. Fabian’s piratical taste in shirts means there’s already so much skin to touch. It’s overwhelming. Riz is so used to denial when it comes to Fabian that he continues to make little bargains with himself. _You can touch his chest later, but not now_. But even if his hands stay tangled in the ladder above his head, Riz can still feel Fabian’s body pressed against him.

“The tricky thing, I’ve found, is getting two people up a ladder without letting go,” Fabian says, almost conversationally if his voice didn’t sound so low and breathless.

“How did you get me up the first time?” Riz asks.

Fabian grins and hefts Riz across one shoulder. “Like this.” Riz snorts as Fabian starts to climb.

At the top Riz nearly falls over while hopping around removing his boots, and Fabian laughingly catches him. “You must want me to carry you everywhere.”

“How - where do you want...?”

“Take this off,” Fabian growls, tugging the coveralls roughly down to Riz’s waist, “and get on the bed.”

Scrambling back onto the bed in only his underwear and one sock, Riz watches as Fabian slowly starts to strip. He shrugs out of his shirt, slowly unbuckles his belt, pushes his pants down, revealing lean muscles and scarred brown skin.

Riz feels like he should reciprocate in some way. He tugs off his remaining sock. There—very erotic.

Fabian kneels on the bed and leans over him, running his hands up between Riz’s legs. “What kind of night do you want? Do you want me to fuck you? Do you want to fuck me? I’m good with my mouth and hands...”

Riz wishes desperately that they had more time, that he’d made a move any time in the past week, so that he could say yes to everything. “Oh, yes, as much of that—definitely fuck me,” he gasps.

Fabian smiles and reaches for Riz. Riz can see him outlined in the stars as he responds to Riz’s request with his hands and mouth and body, until Fabian flips them over and Riz is looking down, Fabian stretched out beneath him.

“Look at me, Riz.” Fabian begs, “Talk to me. Say my name.”

“Fabian... please...” _I think I’m in love with you_ , but he catches that secret before it leaves his mouth. Some part of it still slips into his gasps, but that’s alright, as long as Riz can swallow the rest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s a shorter chapter this time, basically the last chapter of set up before the plot really gets going. 
> 
> I’ve just been so delighted by every time someone leaves kudos or a comment! It makes my week, every week!


	6. Two Body Problem

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabian lies to several port authorities and Riz gets tech help from a friend

Waking up is strangely reminiscent of Riz’s first day on board—the initial confusion, darkness, stars stretching overhead—but this time Riz is being smothered by six feet of affectionate smuggler.

Riz wishes desperately that he could stay longer, turn back time for a few hours and replay last night. He’s aware that even another few hours wouldn’t be enough. Somehow, in the weeks of sharing jokes and battles and secrets, Fabian has become more important to him than a passing crush or a one night stand.

Riz buries that thought. He has work to do, and Fabian isn’t the type to stick around waiting. Riz can have a fling with the sexy smuggler on his mission, not when he’s juggling work and family and home. He tries to imagine Fabian fitting into his normal life of late nights and mundane routines, and comes up with nothing.

And Riz doesn’t quite fit in Fabian’s unsettled life of adventure, constantly on the run from his father-progenitor’s enemies and searching for the next big score. He knows he could easily turn his skills to a life of crime, but there will always be more mysteries—more missing persons who need his help.

Fabian stirs and pulls Riz close. “Mmm, can feel you thinking too much.”

Riz lets himself relax into Fabians arms. “I was just trying to figure out where the constellations I know are,” he lies.

Fabian shifts over and points upward. “You’re disoriented because we’re facing Solace, and you’re used to facing away. You just need to think about this from a different angle. Look, there’s the plant Fallinel, and Solace should be in orbit around the other side. We’d normally be passing by Helios now, if someone” he nudges Riz “hadn’t let them blow up their planetoid.”

“Hey, I did my best to stop them,” Riz protests. “They were just very insistent on blowing themselves up! Stupid apocalypse cults. In my defense, we evacuated a lot of people, and - and you don’t have clearance to judge my actions anyway!”

“Mmm, what do I have clearance for?” Fabian teases, leaning over Riz, but they’re interrupted by the Hangman.

“Captain, long range scouts from Fallinel are hailing us for our flight plan.”

Fabian groans and sits up. “I’ll be down shortly,” he grumbles, pulling on pants. “Tell them we’re a ship called Mariner’s Rest in the meantime, and that we have cargo for Fallinel and a passenger for Solace.”

Riz also starts to gather his scattered clothes, but he’s interrupted when Fabian pulls him up into a kiss. “I’m sorry to cut the morning short, but I have to go lie to the port authorities.” He reaches out to brush Riz’s hair back, and Riz leans in to his touch. “Unless you want a lot of fanfare for your return. Hail the conquering hero?”

“Ugh, no,” Riz pulls a face. “I just slip quietly back into my life and confab with Adaine. No fanfare, no parades.”

“Ah, that’s a pity—I love a big entrance.” Fabian smiles, but his smile shifts as he turns away into an expression that Riz doesn’t quite catch.

Well, Riz will just refuse to have feelings about this, he decides as he cleans himself up and tries to tug the collar of his coveralls up higher on his neck. This was an... eventful voyage, and an incredible night, and he will definitely think about it often, but it’s time for him to get back to work.

It takes Fabian over an hour to bamboozle the authorities of two different governments to let them land, fabricating cargo manifests and explaining away the damage the Nautilus made to the hull. Riz just sits off to the side, enjoying watching Fabian bluster and posture, already feeling a kind of melancholy nostalgia. Finally they’re landing, and there’s nothing left for Riz to do but disembark.

Outside the ship, he turns to Fabian. “I know we’re out of the way, but if you’re ever in Solace again... Well, I suppose I’m not always here myself.”

Fabian looks like he’s about to say something, but he stops and shakes his head. He reaches into a pocket and hands Riz what looks like the transponder codes for the Hangman. “You’ve probably already found these in your snooping, but if you ever need me...” He smiles.

Riz blushes. “I might have, but it’s nice to have backup.” He won’t use them, Riz decides, but he’ll definitely keep them, like the galaxy’s dorkiest love token.

Fabian reaches for him one last time, sliding his hands into Riz’s hair and tilting his face up. Riz keeps his eyes open as Fabian kisses him, not wanting to miss anything from this moment. Eventually, Fabian sighs and pulls back. It’s incredibly difficult to turn and walk away after that, but Riz has always been good at doing the difficult thing. He doesn’t look back.

Riz stops off at his apartment first, almost flubbing disarming the traps he left on the door until he sternly wrestles his thoughts back to the task at hand. Changing into a clean shirt, trousers, and vest, Riz starts to feel more like himself. He scratches at his beard and decides maybe he’ll keep it for a while, remembering the way Fabian enjoyed running his fingers through it. It’s a shame Fabian never got to see him dressed normally. _Nope, no time for that—just keep moving forward_.

Riz leaves messages with Adaine and with his mom, checking in and letting them know he’s back earlier than expected, before heading over to meet his contact who specializes in holograms and projections. Biz is always annoying, and Riz would rather spare Adaine the frustration of meeting with him. He’ll catch up with her later—it will be like a reward after dealing with Biz.

Biz’s lab is a mess, as usual. Energy drinks, cables and cords, crystals are all scattered on every available surface. Towards the back of the lab Biz seems to have some sort of new power source running, attached to a large crystalline contraption. Riz peers at it, but can’t figure it out. Maybe he should have convinced Adaine to come after all.

“Biz? You here?”

Biz’s phlegmy, nasal voice comes from the back. “I am, as always, at your service. You need help from your #1 hacker?” Biz flits down from near the ceiling, strapped in to a float chair, and hovers slightly higher than Riz’s eye-line, making him crane his neck slightly to talk to him. _Asshole_.

Riz pulls out the prototype and hands it over. “I’ve got one of those new AI prototypes here. I think there’s something wrong, but I want to get your unbiased opinion.”

“Ah, very mysterious,” Biz powers up the crystal and grins as the hologram of Samantha—or Sam—appears between them. “This all looks normal to me on first glance, but I can run some tests. What exactly am I looking for?”

“I’d like your opinion on the holographic interface,” Riz says, frowning. He shouldn’t have to prompt Biz to do his job.

“Very advanced holographic interface, and very pretty” Biz leers at the projection and Riz has to grit his teeth to keep from responding. It does Sam no good to alienate one of the people with the technical knowledge to save her. Fabian would probably have a witty put-down, but Riz... can’t afford to.

“I see what you mean about the projection being off—normally a hologram like this would cycle between a set of pre-programmed movements, but the animation for this is incredible,” Biz continues, thankfully back on task. “And - ah! Look at that! Little gestures like that hand fidget are almost impossible to animate without seeming awkward.”

“That’s what I noticed,” Riz says, relieved. “Do you think...? Could this be based on a real person, not an animation?”

“Like a holographic rotoscope? Using real movements as a model? Could be,” Biz frowns, picks up the AI crystal and begins to hover to the back of the lab. The projection of Sam Nightingale moves alongside as if she was walking across the lab, although she walks through Biz’s experiments and workstations as if they weren’t there. “That would be an interesting project...”

“But it would undermine the point of developing an AI,” Riz interrupts. “Why develop a truly responsive artificial intelligence if you’re going to rotoscope all of its movements? There’s a disconnect here between the animation and the supposed programming.”

“That’s true,” Biz hesitates. “Tell me what your theory is, and I’ll see if I can fill in the technical details. I want to help.”

Excited to finally be getting the information he needs, Riz starts to explain—the missing girls, the lifelike animations, the suddenness of XV Korp’s supposed technological breakthrough. Biz listens intently, turned slightly to the side as he looks at the projection of Sam.

“Ok, here’s what I think,” Biz gently puts down the crystal and switches off the projection, still facing away from Riz. “I think this isn’t an AI, it’s a palimpsest. The Korp has kidnapped this young woman—Sam?—and placed her in suspended animation somewhere, presumably at a facility they control. They took a complete scan of her body and hooked up her brain to this little device, so that she can be accessed remotely, all of those neurons working together as quickly and fluidly as any machine. And they scraped away any memories or feelings that make her identifiable.”

Riz feels sick. People scraped apart and repurposed. It’s like a lobotomy, or a nightmarish neurological abattoir. “Is she... dead?”

“Likely, no, and it’s possible the process could be reversed,” Biz doesn’t sound nearly as horrified as Riz feels, like this is a tech puzzle instead of an abomination. “It’s impressive you found all of this out, on just a hunch.”

“You said it could be reversed—do you know how? Can you try?” Riz grasps at the glimmer of hope in this conversation. There’s got to be some way forward.

“Oh certainly,” Biz says confidently. “I’ll just hook her up to this power-source. If you’ll step this way...” Biz makes an elaborate bow from mid-air. As soon as Riz steps past him he pilots his float chair to suddenly shove Riz into the enclosed crystal chamber at the back of the lab.

“But, of course, I’m only explaining this to you because the transfer is more seamless when you know what’s going to happen to you.” Biz says calmly. Riz spins around, reaching for his gun, but before he can react there’s a blinding flash of light and the world goes away.


	7. Cognitive Estrangement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another spaceport, another contact

Fabian is only half-listening to Aelwen as she oversees the unloading of her cargo. He’s thinking about Riz again. He’s been trying to draw out his memories of Riz, only focusing on one at a time. Today it’s the first time he saw Riz on the ship, smoothing his hair back as it dripped, longer when wet and curling slightly behind his ears. Fabian was distracted for most of that morning, just watching Riz’s hair slowly dry. He’s pretty sure he burned breakfast. Everything after that happened on such a strange timescale—the rushed intimacies of combat and secrets and proximity and loneliness—that Fabian isn’t sure how he feels. It’s been a long time since he had such a whirlwind romance, and then—he looks over at Aelwen—it didn’t go well.

“Before I forget, I have a gift for you.” Aelwen sets an unmarked crystal down in front of him, jarring Fabian back to reality. She smiles and crosses her arms—she’s almost looking as piratical as Fabian these days, in a long sleeveless coat and tall boots. Probably the only part of their relationship she wanted to keep.

“One of those new prototype AI? I thought I told you I decided against upgrading the Hangman.” Fabian does his best to sound nonchalant. If this was another XV Korp device, another trapped or copied person... it was the perfect excuse to get back in touch with Riz. He imagines a reunion, Riz seeming completely distracted by the new AI until he turns to Fabian and pulls him down into another passionate kiss...

He reaches out but Aelwen beats him to it, switching the crystal on, saying, “I thought you’d enjoy this model.” The hologram flickers to life.

And it’s Riz. A version of Riz Fabian has never seen—pressed shirt, tailored waistcoat, neatly trimmed beard—all flickering blueish green in the light projected from the crystal.

“I am your personal artificial aide. My capacities include predictive analysis, along with data collation and investigation. My designation is RZ-01. My default name is ‘Riz,’ but you may program me to respond to any name.”

It’s Riz’s voice, his gestures, his intonation, but all eerily emptied of emotion. Fabian has seen Riz cautiously hiding his emotions, but never this... deadened.

“Look, you can turn him on, or off, whenever you like,” Aelwen says, demonstrating with a cruel smile. The Riz projection flickers in and out. “Your own personal goblin man.”

Fabian knows Aelwen, and he knows that she can be petty and cruel, but this seems excessive. She nods, ever so slightly, to the laborers transferring her cargo. _Ah, we’re being watched._ Well, Fabian can certainly play the stooge to Aelwen’s malicious ex. They’ve both had genuine practice at that, in their younger days. Fabian doesn’t try to disguise the confused hurt on his face and waits for her to keep taunting.

“I’ve got a couple of tokens for you, lover boy,” she continues, speaking louder than the occasion demands. “It’s a funny thing. I knew there was a spy sniffing around one of my side projects, but guess what we found in his pocket? Now what would this spy be doing with your transponder codes? You don’t give those out to just anyone. In fact, I remember you making a big fuss over giving them to me.”

Fabian breaks in at that, catching his cue. “Look, Aelwen, if you’re trying to get back at me... It shouldn’t matter to you who I sleep with.”

“No, don’t be naive, this isn’t about you.” Aelwen scoffs. “It’s about sending a message to him, and to my sister, about staying out of my business. You’re just an added perk.”

Aelwen stands and leans close to Fabian’s ear. To the watchers, she might be giving some final insult, but Fabian can feel her hand shake as she whispers to him. “Careful with this one, loverboy. These aren’t the kind of people you want to cross.” Fabian thoughtfully pockets the crystal and watches Aelwen stride away.

Back in the Hangman, Fabian slumps down to sit on his bed and turns on— and boots up the device. The projected Riz appears again, looking as emotionless and untouchable as before. The Riz-thing looks at Fabian quizzically.

“Do you know me?” Fabian isn’t sure what answer he’s hoping for. The projection cocks it’s head to the side.

“I am registered as your personal artificial aide. I am capable of learning new skills and capacities to better serve you..”

“No,” Fabian interjects. “Riz, do you remember me? What’s the last thing you remember? Or, or maybe the first thing?”

“I remember first meeting you in a spaceport...” Fabian sits up excitedly, but the Riz projection continues, “You were speaking with Aelwen Abernant. Before we met, I was accessed for the first time by Aelwen. She asked me several diagnostic questions and then transferred ownership over to you. I am now your personal artificial aide.”

“You aren’t mine—stop saying that.” Fabian scrubs his hands over his face.

“Do you need assistance beyond the answers to your questions? I am capable of interfacing with your ship, if you have a specific task for me.”

There has to be some way to get through to the real Riz, trigger some memories. Or maybe this isn’t even the real Riz. Just a copy, missing the most important pieces. Fabian could just be left with this shadowy copy of a former lover.

Well, he’s felt haunted by worse.

“I do have a task for you: Do a search for the name ‘Riz Gukgak’ and tell me what you find.”

The projection’s eyes flash as it quickly skims through databases. “Ah yes, it appears that ‘Riz Gukgak’ is a low level political servant living on Solace. He works mainly as a courier, but occasionally takes on secretarial labor. Unmarried, no children, his mother is his only living relative. Was there a particular piece of information you wished for me to retrieve?”

“Yes, is there a picture of him?”

The projection pulls up several images of Riz, what looks like a series of government ID photos going back several years. Fabian is briefly distracted by a picture of Riz in his early twenties, looking belligerent and spotty. It’s strange getting this perspective on Riz, as a series of shifting faces slowly growing into the person he met.

Fabian points at the most recent picture of Riz, clean-shaven but otherwise identical to the projected image. “Look, that’s clearly you. You can’t just be an AI who happens to look exactly like this man.” The projection doesn’t react, and Fabian desperately tries an appeal he knows would work with the real Riz. “Come on, there has to be a connection. Aren’t you at all curious?”

The projection blinks. “I agree there is a strong resemblance. Perhaps your Riz Gukgak volunteered to be the physical model for my visual interface. You may program me to respond to “Riz Gukgak” if you wish.”

Fabian groans, closes his eyes and leans back. “Yeah, I guess. Whatever.”

Fabian knows he’s completely out of his depth. Give him a space battle, a heist, a bar brawl, and he knows exactly what to do. This tangled confusion of spies and simulated people—he needs help. His only insight into what’s happened to Riz comes from Riz’s own excited synopsis of the case—and Fabian is the first to admit he was paying more attention to the way Riz lights up when he pieces together clues than the clues themselves—and Aelwen’s nebulous involvement. Wait, Aelwen mentioned a sister, and Riz talked about his partner...

“Riz, is there an ‘Adaine Abernant’ in your database?

Another pause and the Riz projection waves an image of an elven woman into existence in the air beside him. “Adaine Abernant is an independent contractor living on Solace, primarily working as a computer programmer. Her family connections aren’t available on the public databases, and, hang on...”

The holographic Riz looks perplexed—not an emotional reaction still, not upset or worried, but almost peeved that he doesn’t have all of the information immediately to hand. Fabian feels hopeful for the first time that Riz is still out there, somewhere, and that this copy is connected to him. The projection blinks and refocuses on Fabian. “Apologies for the delay. Much of the information on Adaine has been deliberately erased or encoded. It does appear that she has an outstanding arrest warrant on Fallinel. Is she also part of your ‘Riz Gukgak’ mystery?”

Fabian stares at the image projected in front of him, a very prim looking elven woman in a skirt and blazer, hair pulled back, glaring defiantly into the camera. “Yes, I think she can help us—help you. She’s supposed to be your friend.” He makes himself look at the hologram of Riz. “You’re not a courier, and she’s not a programmer, or not entirely. You’re both spies. I got the sense that you do the fieldwork, while she’s more of an analyst, but the warrant makes me think I underestimated her.”

Riz looks at him almost curiously. “A courier would be a good cover for a spy,” he offers. “Might I recommend... this woman seems dangerous, and she might object to having her cover blown. Do you have a way of contacting her? A neutral third party?”

“Ah, no,” Fabian considers for a moment, and then winces as a crazy, terrible idea comes to him. “I don’t have a contact, but you might.” This really goes against all of his instincts as a smuggler, and it’s definitely going to cause problems down the line, but if there’s a chance he can save Riz...

“Riz, pull up any information you have on Detective Sklonda Gukgak.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooray, Riz isn’t dead, he’s just *gestures* not in a great situation. Stay tuned for Sklonda, Adaine, and some Fabian-flavored pining!
> 
> I’m on the tumblr @the-flail-snail


	8. Bureaucratic Hivemind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabian tells the truth to several port authorities
> 
> Possible TW that Fabian sort of gets Deadnamed in this chapter (because clone)

Fabian’s visit to Solace goes exactly as he anticipated: Horribly.

Solace is on his no-fly list for a reason—there’s nothing worse for a smuggler (or a clone) than an efficient bureaucracy. He hides the Hangman in a little-used hangar some distance from the busiest part of the spaceport and makes the long trek over to the customs and immigration station surrounding the entrance to the gravity elevator down to the planet surface. The bored-looking clerk on duty barely glances at him when asking for Fabian’s geneprint and ID. Fabian puts on his most charming smile, spreads his arms, and loudly announces, “My name is Fabian Aramais Seacaster, I have no ID, I’m an illegal clone, I’ve committed several petty crimes in Solesian space, and I have crucial information which I will only share with Detective Sklonda Gukgak.” The geneprint would reveal most of these facts anyway, and he’d just rather go with the direct approach.

In the hubbub following his announcement Fabian is whisked away by security and transferred through a series of dingy holding rooms. This is the worst part. It’s always fun to make an entrance, but the endless waiting and questioning is so boring, and there are no anarchist halflings around this time to break him out. Fabian tries to be polite, really he does. He passively holds out his arm for the technician taking his geneprint, he allows himself to be handcuffed, he answers the same inane questions over and over again, even though he feels like screaming.

“No, I am not William Seacaster. You can see from your records that he is much older than me, and also dead. No, I am not responsible for this murder, or that theft, or this... hmm, yes, I am partially responsible for this jewel heist here, mostly on the distribution end, but generally it’s good to double check the dates of some of these crimes. Do you want to just give me a checklist? I’d be happy to... Now really, it’s a little unprofessional to shout like this. I’m trying to help.”

It _hurts_ , to have to constantly correct his name, to be given credit or blame for his father/progenitor’s accomplishments, as if all the work he’s done—that Bill helped him do, toward the end—to figure himself out as his own person can be immediately stripped away by the paperwork clutched in the hand of a greasy cop.

Fabian keeps on repeating throughout the interrogations that he needs to talk with Sklonda, that he will only share his information with Sklonda, that, yes, his information is important—it’s a matter of planetary security (probably)—and that Sklonda Gukgak will want to hear what he has to say.

He does almost lash out when one efficient interrogator finally searches his clothing and takes Riz’s crystal away, but Fabian controls himself. It doesn’t help to attack these people. He just needs to keep his cool, focus on the mission, like Riz would do. At some point, he’s going to become enough of a nuisance that either Riz’s mom will come in, or the tech wizard Adaine will become curious. He just needs to grit his teeth and wait this out.

Finally, long after Fabian’s internal clock has given up trying to figure the hours, at the point where he can feel the exhaustion set into his bones and a headache starts pounding behind his empty eye-socket, when he’s almost starting to answer to the name “William” again, a short, determined-looking goblin woman in a long jacket comes into the room. She waves the other interrogators out, sets the crystal down on the table in front of him, and turns it on. Fabian breathes out in relief at seeing Riz again—even this strange holo-Riz is a comforting sight right now. Detective Gukgak slams her hands down on the table in front of him and demands, “Who the hell are you, and what are you doing with this facsimile of my son?”

Fabian spreads his hands where they’re handcuffed to the table in a placating gesture. “Ma’am, I know this must look odd. I met your son recently, when he was investigating these AI crystals. He made some sort of breakthrough—he said these weren’t really artificial intelligences, but trapped people. I’ll be honest, I have no idea what that means. After I dropped him off at the Solace spaceport a few days ago, one of my contacts gave me this crystal. I think... I think this is Riz, but he’s trapped, and missing his memories.”

Fabian stares beseechingly at Sklonda, hoping she believes him. She narrows her eyes. “You must know how ridiculous that sounds,” she says, but she pulls out a chair and sits down.

Fabian shrugs and tests out a rueful smile. “I know exactly how crazy this sounds. I’m risking a lot to be here. Why would I voluntarily place myself in custody if I’m not telling the truth?”

Both Fabian and Sklonda startle as Riz chimes in. “There are many possible reasons why you would place yourself in custody. You could be attempting to get yourself arrested as the first step in a jailbreak. You could be making an assassination attempt on one of the detectives or security personnel. You could be suffering from a depressive episode and using the Solesian bureaucracy as a form of self harm.”

Fabian groans. “Really not helping, Riz.”

“I have eight other possible scenarios I can run through...”

“Please, don’t.”

“You know,” Sklonda looks over at Riz. “This is suddenly starting to seem more plausible. That is exactly how Riz’s mind works.” She looks grim, and a little distraught at the possibility, but she breathes in and pulls herself together. “How are you so sure that this is Riz? Or, how are you so sure this is Riz from a few days ago?”

“I think he didn’t have a beard when he left for his mission?” Sklonda nods slightly. “And, well, this is embarrassing, but, um...” _Come on Fabian, no reason to cling to your dignity at this point_. “You see that darker patch on the hologram’s neck? It’s, um, it was there when I, ah, I guess I’m the one responsible.”

Sklonda barks out a laugh. “Oh, Riz, honey, you really know how to pick them.” Fabian isn’t sure if Sklonda means that as a complement or not. She certainly looks at Fabian differently now as he squirms in his seat. Still distrustful, but also appraising. “You know, this is the first time in a long time that I’ve had the chance to meet one of Riz’s, ah, partners. He tends to keep his life pretty compartmentalized.”

“That sounds like Riz.” It feels wrong to talk about Riz as if he’s not here, but Fabian is glad to talk to someone who understands, who can look over at the hologram and get the same frisson of familiarity and distance. Partner seems like a strong term for weeks of what he’d thought was a one-sided flirtation followed by a breathtaking one night stand, but Fabian is willing to use the assumption if it helps rescue Riz from his virtual half-life.

Fabian leans forward, looking at both Sklonda and the hologram, wanting somehow to convince both Gukgaks that he’s on their side. “You don’t have to trust me, but I want you to know that Riz did. He... we shared a lot of things, not just...” Fabian can feel himself flushing, “not just _that_. He talked with me about his case. He shared some stories about his childhood. He told me about his dad, and I got the sense he doesn’t share that with many people.”

He wouldn’t have seen it if he hadn’t been looking directly at the projection, but Riz glitches, just for a second, flickering and distorting before reforming. Fabian quietly files this observation away to share with someone better at piecing together a puzzle. Riz himself, by preference, but Fabian isn’t sure the hologram will have the same astounding insights on a case.

Sklonda raises her eyebrows and sits back. “Riz has not, to my knowledge, shared his feelings about Pok with anyone. Ever. He treated the grief counseling I set up for him like it was a hostile interrogation.”

Fabian feels inordinately pleased, and then a little guilty. He supposes he did push Riz into sharing information. Intimacy doesn’t count if it’s stolen. He ducks his head and waits for Sklonda’s verdict.

“I’m willing to take your theory seriously,” Sklonda finally says. “And I’ll see what I can do about you. I appreciate that you’ve... put yourself in a difficult position, coming here.”

Fabian sighs. “If you can get them to call me by the right name, and charge me for the right crimes, that would be a help.” Sklonda gives him a wry smile, catching, if not fully understanding, his frustration, and Fabian decides to gamble. “And if you need a ship, and someone who can operate slightly outside the law, I’m your man. Otherwise I’m just sitting in a cell for a few years on a series of petty theft charges. Riz saved my life. I feel like I owe him something.“

Sklonda nods, and stands. “I’ll make some suggestions. You seem like a useful man.” She hesitates, reaching for the crystal, quietly saying “Sorry kiddo” before switching the hologram off and pocketing the device. She leaves, and Fabian is alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fabian: What would Riz do? I know, I’ll loudly announce my own name until I can figure out the right people to annoy!
> 
> I realized early into writing this chapter that making Fabian a clone set him up for situations analogous to trans experiences like being deadnamed. I’ll be sure to tag in the chapter description if it comes up again. Which it might, since one of Fabian’s love languages is getting himself arrested in order to awkwardly meet the parents.
> 
> Next up, Adaine (and Boggy) vs the bureaucracy


	9. Predictive Text

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabian gets a few more visitors, and considers a change of career.

Fabian stares at the ceiling of his cell, bored out of his mind. He’s at his best when he can keep active, keep moving. Without regular hits of adrenaline, it’s too easy for a kind of empty feeling to creep in, a reminder of just how different he is from Bill. _Well, I wanted to be different. What kind of pirate turns himself in?_

Sklonda visits a few times. She’s still trying to get his sentence reduced, she explains, but the ongoing confusion about Fabian’s identity means his case has fallen under some complicated jurisdiction and she’s facing off against a long-despised rival. On the latest visit she brings him a stack of books to help pass the time, which Fabian takes as a sign the jurisdiction battle isn’t going well. Flipping through the selection, Fabian quickly realizes these are Riz’s books—all mysteries, with Riz’s cramped handwriting editorializing the margins. For Fabian, Riz’s annotations are more interesting than the stories themselves. He finds himself laughing at Riz’s biting commentary on the crimes and the solutions. Riz seems to consistently solve each fictional case himself a third of the way into the story, and then become increasingly grumpy when the fictional detective team can’t achieve the same results. It’s a surprisingly endearing insight into Riz’s mind, and helps keep Fabian’s black mood at bay.

Fabian briefly considers asking Sklonda to leave Riz himself in the cell, but he isn’t sure whether enforced proximity with the hologram would be a different sort of depressing. At any rate, he surely has less right to Riz’s company than Riz’s mom or his friends.

Fabian is cracking open _The Precognition Caper_ for the third time when he hears a small thunk and looks up to see Riz himself in the room. He blinks, confused. For a deranged moment he thinks this might really be Riz in the flesh—there’s no crystal that he can see—but Riz still has the bluish tinge of a hologram. The projection signals him to silence and then begins a bizarre pantomime of gestures and almost-expressive facial ticks which leave Fabian more perplexed than ever. He silently mouthes “What?” and Riz goes through the same gestures again, with a slight frown and a brief stutter of pixilation. _He’s glitching again. That’s good, right? Is that good?_

Finally Riz just points up to the ceiling. Fabian stands to follow the gesture and almost trips on a pile of clothes which seem to have appeared from nowhere. Or from above, the cause if the thunking noise suddenly apparent. Above his head, Fabian sees a small, round robot clutching Riz’s crystal partially emerging from a opened vent, too narrow for a body, but the right size for a bot. Interpreting Riz’s gestures better now, Fabian holds out his hands to catch the tiny bot as it drops down from the ceiling. It is, without a doubt, the smallest robot he’s ever seen—a perfect sphere with two round sensory orbs rotating its body and the letters BG-Y inscribed on one side. Looks more like a child’s toy than anything, but Fabian feels comforted holding it.

So, someone is breaking him out. Riz alone, or Riz with outside help?

Fabian toes at the pile of clothes and sighs. He really likes this coat. Begrudgingly he starts stripping and carefully folding his clothes. It feels strange to strip with Riz in the room, like it should be erotic but isn’t. Fabian knows if he looked over this version of Riz wouldn’t have the rapt, joyful expression he remembers from their night together. If he doesn’t look directly at Riz, he can pretend, but...

Dressing in the clothes Riz provided proves a useful antidote to any erotic memories. The replacement clothes are bizarre—bright neon green, heavy and bulky fabric. Fabian fumbles figuring out the clasps and buckles. The boots are two sizes two large, and slide around his feet uncomfortably. Actually, the whole outfit is too large, like it was sized for an orc instead of a human. At the last, he pulls on a heavy helmet and picks up a face-mask. At least his face will be obscured, but nothing else about this outfit screams “disguise.” Fabian feels ridiculous. He’s playing dress up as an acid spill. He twists part of the fabric around to find the emblem of the station and the words “Solace Emergency Responder.”

“If you wanted me to dress up as a sexy firefighter, I think you missed the mark,” Fabian says, forgetting to be quiet.

“Shhh!” Riz flaps his hands at Fabian and moves closer, continuing in a whisper. “You just need to wait for the signal. When the door opens, go the opposite direction from everyone else. Someone will contact you.”

“What sign-“ Fabian asks, as the room is suddenly rocked by the sound of an explosion elsewhere on the station. Riz gives a slight smile and calmly says, “That’s the signal.”

The bot switches off the projection as it drops down into his pocket, and Riz flickers away before Fabian can protest. Fabian hurriedly pulls his face-mask on as an alarms starts to sound. A pre-recorded voice announces, “The facility is experiencing a temporary loss of air. Stay calm and evacuate to the designated safe zone.” He hears a click as the door slides open. _Okay, let’s do this._ Fabian pats the pocket with BG-Y and Riz’s crystal for reassurance and steps out into the corridor.

It’s mostly empty—these are only temporary holding areas for people who got in trouble with customs for minor misdemeanors like sneaking an unapproved species through the spaceport—but there are a couple of confused-looking people poking their heads out of their cells. Fabian quickly peaks at the evacuation placard on the wall and then projects his voice. “Everything is under control, but this is not a drill. Um, make your way to the end of the corridor and turn left.” He hears a fellow prisoner exclaim about how quickly Emergency Services responded as he spins around and shuffles off in the other direction, clutching at his too-large pants as they try to slip down his hips.

Striding around confidently helps the illusion of his thin disguise, and Fabian finds himself helping pass out emergency breather masks and directing more alarmed station personnel to what he hopes are the correct safe zones. The adrenaline rush from moving around, helping in a crisis, is invigorating, and Fabian laughs under his breath as he rushes forward. Besides, Riz said that he would be contacted by someone, and he trusts Riz, so he keeps on going and hopes. Pausing at a junction where several corridors split apart, Fabian realizes he can hear cautious footsteps behind him.

“Well, this is a surprise. There was such a small probability you would come this way, I wasn’t prepared,” a quiet, accented voice says. Fabian spins around and his loose helmet spins with him, briefly blocking his view. As he reorients, he can hear the other person laughing.

She’s very different from her picture. The prim elven wardrobe is gone. Instead, Adaine is wearing the kind of baggy shipknit pants that spacers use for long voyages, paired with a sleeveless black turtleneck. The blazer is still there, but it’s two sizes too large and her pockets are overflowing with tech tools and parts, including some that look leftover from an amateur bomb. Her hair is no longer pulled back severely, but cut very short and tangling around her ears. Only her expression is the same, defiant and intent once she stops laughing at Fabian’s clumsy entrance. She looks a lot like her sister, Fabian thinks to himself, wondering how Adaine managed to survive what sounded from Aelwen’s account to be a fucked up childhood.

“You have Riz and Boggy. Give them to me.” Adaine holds her hand out imperiously. Fabian hesitates, but passes both over. Adaine switches Riz on and tucks BG-Y into a pocket.

“Ok, Riz, what have you got for us? I’ve scrambled the other emergency responder signals, but that doesn’t give us a huge window for our escape,” she says briskly.

Riz nods. “At this point I recommend leaving the way you came in.”

Adaine wrinkles her nose. “It’s slightly exploded right now.”

“Yes, which means there’s a hole. If you can grab a breather mask, you should be able to move around in the low atmosphere venting through that part of the station and get out to the spaceship hangars. I calculate your abilities will get you through the most difficult parts.”

Adaine snorts. “Well, thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Ok, another mask. Simple enough. Fabian jogs back down the corridor he came from and sidles up to one of the station personnel he just helped. “Apologies, ma’am, but I’m going to have to appropriate the mask I gave you.” He smiles down at the frowning woman, dimly recognizing her as one of the more officious clerks he had to deal with during his imprisonment. “There’s a young woman having a bad asthma attack just down the hall, and she desperately needs help.” He tugs the mask off her face before she can protest, explaining, “There will be plenty of extra supplies in the designated safe zones. You can register any complaints with the other Emergency Responders when they arrive.”

He schleps back, mask in hand, baggy trousers also in hand, to present it to a bemused Adaine. She quirks an eyebrow at him and says, “Alright, Riz, let’s try your plan. Bring your boytoy along.”

Riz frowns, and starts to make some glitching protest, but Fabian is delighted. “Mantoy, surely,” he corrects, politely bowing as Adaine laughs and sets off down a corridor. Adaine is bossy and strange, but she’s treating Riz like a person. She clearly believes this is Riz, and it comforts Fabian that he’s not alone in his conviction.

Adaine effortlessly navigates them through just the right set of corridors to avoid any roving security or panicked, evacuating people. Fabian thinks he sees Adaine’s eyes flash blue once before she mutters “no, definitely not that way” to herself and backtracks to another route. They quickly reach the explosion site. Fabian whistles in appreciation at the twisted metal and gaping hole left behind by Adaine’s “signal.” He can see out past a few bent girders into nothingness, the empty void of space barely occluded by scraps of floating debris. The curve of the planet stretches beneath them, cities and continents and oceans. The spaceport is about fifty feet below them, an easier climb in low gravity.

Fabian pulls at his pants again, futilely hoping they’ll stay up this time, and cautiously reaches for a handhold. Adaine straps on her breather mask and does the same. She doesn’t switch off Riz so he sort of, floats next to them as they climb, which has to be the most disconcerting thing Fabian’s seen from the hologram. Riz is usually pretty good about pretending the physical world affects him.

To his credit, Riz seems to catch how weirded out Fabian is by this.

“I could... pretend to climb?” he offers, but Fabian shakes his head.

“No, it’s fine. I’m just glad to see you again. Even... even like this.”

After the first few feet Fabian starts to get the hang of the way the venting atmosphere buffets his clothing around. He can see the hangar where the Hangman is waiting, and breaths a sigh of relief that it wasn’t discovered and impounded. He looks up to tell Adaine the good news, but she’s stopped moving, clutching desperately at a handhold with her eyes closed. Fabian quickly climbs back to her level to hear her frantically repeating, “Oh god, there’s so many ways this could go wrong.”

Fabian reaches out to gently touch Adaine’s shoulder. She startles, looking up. Her pupils are nearly impossible to see through the bright blue glow of her eyes. She’s breathing too quickly for the mask to keep a regular flow of oxygen, and Fabian worries she might asphyxiate from panic. He musters up his most reassuring smile.

“It’s ok, I’m here.” Fabian is also scared spitless, but he’s always been good at pretending. “I’m going to be right here next to you, and we’ll just take this slowly, ok?”

Adaine nods, still gasping for air. “Distract me?” she whispers.

Fabian is great at distraction. He keeps one hand on Adaine’s back as they start to climb down, pointing her to one handhold at a time, wracking his brains for a suitably calming conversation topic.

“So I was just reading this book—Sklonda gave me a pile of Riz’s books, to help with the boredom—and it was about a detective with psychic powers. He could see the future, but just sometimes. Mostly when it was narratively convenient. Are you like that? I mean, are you a precog or something? You’re definitely narratively convenient—I was about to go crazy in that cell before your rescue.”

Adaine nods, and gasps out, “Doesn’t work like stories—can only see near futures, like possibilities to choose from.”

“That’s impressive! That’s what makes your eyes glow, right? Hang on, careful with this next step down.” Fabian guides Adaine down a few more handholds, keeping up a stream of cheerful nonsense in counterpoint to her gasping breaths. “Precognitive powers must be handy in your work, but I suppose it could be paralyzing to weigh the pros and cons of so many possible futures.” Fabian smiles wryly to himself. “I don’t think I’ve ever really paused to think before acting. More of a rush in and kick a squid-man, regret it later sort of guy.”

Adaine’s frantic breathing is starting to slow, so Fabian feels less pressure to keep up a monologue. He looks over at Riz, who’s listening intently, and then out at the lights of the planet below them.

“Have you lived on Solace your whole life, Adaine? Can we see your home from here?” Fabian mentally kicks himself for the question—what if she’s panicked by heights?—but Adaine’s breath still seems to be evening out.

“No, I’ve lived lots of places.” She cautiously looks out at the planet below them, and then closes her eyes and clings to the wall. “Solace isn’t really home for me, but it always has been for Riz. He’s got this crazy sense of duty to the people and the place. No matter what he gets up to in space, Riz is always going to be sucked back down that gravity well at the end of a mission.”

They’re both quiet for the last few feet of the climb. The bright blue in Adaine’s eyes flashes again and then fades as she mentally scans their final route to the Hangman.

“I think... we should be ok now.” She looks over at Fabian. “Thanks for - thanks for the distraction. And, sorry. About Riz.”

Fabian takes Adaine’s response as a gesture of sympathy. He’d already guessed Riz’s duty to his planet has to come first. It was written into every annotation across all of Riz’s books—irked criticisms of characters who ran from their responsibilities, refused to help. It’s becoming one of the things Fabian admires most about Riz, and one of the qualities Fabian feels least able to emulate. Now, the best thing Fabian can do is get Riz back to his body, so he can bring him home to the people who need him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whew, this chapter was a bitch to write, in the way that only a “get characters from point A to point B” can be. I think it turned out ok though! I sure love Adaine! And we’ll get the rest of the bad kids next chapter, for the full team! 
> 
> Oh, and I changed the chapters to ? because this is stretching out longer than my original outline thought it would, but I’m guessing it’ll still be around 15 or 16 chapters when complete.
> 
> (Alternate chapter title was just “the Adaine Haderach,” because Dune and because I’m a nerd.)


	10. Significant Figures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You know the sequence in a cheesy 70s action movie where the hero recruits a bunch of badasses one by one to join his team? That’s what this chapter is. Just with less kickboxing.

Things move quickly with Adaine around, Fabian reflects as he finally—finally!—changes back into his own clothes. He misses the loss of his coat, probably forever interred in a Solesian evidence room. The only other coat he has on hand belonged to Bill, a keepsake pushed on him by Hallarial along with a few other mementos. Sometimes it feels like a comfort, sometimes a burden, but either way Fabian would never wear it. So, he’s down to boots, trousers, and his most billowing piratical shirt—the one with the subtle owlbear embroidery around the collar—until he can find a proper coat to complete the look. It’s... fine. It’s _fine_. It’s not like Riz cares at the moment anyway.

He, Adaine, and Riz held a quick strategy meeting as soon as they pulled out orbit. Riz thinks they need more leads on the location of “his body,” his slight smile indicating that he still sees this mission as an interesting puzzle rather than an actual priority. Adaine wants to recruit more help, talking about a contact she has with the medical knowledge to judge what kind of toll fragmenting Riz into consciousness and embodiment might have on him. Fabian knows they’ll need more help anyway if they are going up against one of the Korps, and he is feeling more and more like he needs someone around for _him_ , not just for Riz. Adaine is prickly and empathetic and funny, and Riz is... he’s... something, but Fabian could really use a friend right now. Not just a friend—family.

His ship, his rules (and it made the most sense for a flight-plan anyway), so he navigates the Hangman toward their first stop.

_The Black Pit_

The Pit isn’t the scummiest corner of the galaxy, but it’s not exactly lawful. A glittering black space station orbiting the edges of a black hole, it’s a hub for music, drug running, gambling, and any form of entertainment lurking around the borders of legality. Fabian doesn’t know exactly where Fig is right now—she tends to move around—but the Black Pit is one of her favorite stalking grounds. It’s loud, chaotic, and filled with people with more money than sense.

By unspoken agreement Fabian and Adaine keep Riz’s projection turned on all the time now, so he’s with them as they disembark, his crystal clipped onto Fabian’s belt. Riz draws some attention, both as a well-dressed goblin and as a hologram, but everyone around them stands out in some way. Riz tends to wander, moving to the limits of the range of his projection to peer around corners and into rooms. The fourth time Riz disappears from Fabian’s eyeline and reappears unexpectedly in front of him, Fabian finally snaps. “Could you please stay on my left? I can’t tell where you are.”

Riz does his reappearing trick around to Fabian’s front, looking concerned, and Fabian immediately feels embarrassed for freaking out.

“It’s just...” he tries to explain. “Normally my implants can tell me if someone is on my blindside, but you don’t give off any heat signature. It’s like.. it’s like you vanish, each time.”

Riz smiles apologetically and moves to always be on Fabian’s left. He’s still poking his nose into everything, but it’s a relief to always have him in sight.

The Pit is built like a maze, a warren of obsidian walls and glittering lights. Different styles of music compete for attention with the jangle of slot machines. “Do you actually know where we’re going?” Adaine asks, looking a little overwhelmed.

“I’m mostly navigating by music genre,” Fabian explains. “Last time I saw her, Fig was really into the astroid punk chillwave revival, so I’m hoping she’ll still be hanging out in those areas.” He listens intently for the right kind of beats and baseline, leading Adaine to an open area where a band of punk halflings serenades patrons dancing near a dimly-lit synthahol bar.

“Ok, here’s the plan,” Fabian guides Adaine to a seat at the end of the bar and orders her a drink. “I don’t see Fig right now, so you’ll be the bait.”

“What?”

“Just sit here and look grumpy and slightly overwhelmed.” Adaine glares at him. “Perfect! And don’t worry, this won’t take long. You’re exactly her type.”

Fabian leaves Adaine blushing and sputtering, gesturing Riz over to a corner to keep watch.

“Wouldn’t it make more sense for you to be the bait?” Riz asks.

“Yeah, but this is more fun,” Fabian replies, grinning. “To be fair, Fig has a lot of types. Mostly sad older men and intense women—classic parent issues.”

“I see. I will add this information to my dossier on Fig.” Riz nods, then asks bluntly. “Is this a common pastime? Do you also date people who resemble your mother or father?”

Fabian laughs, startled. “Well, not anymore. I mean, you’re nothing like either of my parents.” It’s not entirely true—in this form, Riz’s emotional detachment does remind Fabian of Hallariel—but close enough.

There’s an awkward pause. “You keep implying... Are we dating?” Riz asks, and this time Fabian can hear auditory distortion along with the visual glitch. But he’s spared a response by the sight of Fig sidling up to the bar.

As he suspected, she’s made a beeline for Adaine and is leaning over her, smiling. Fabian notes that Fig’s finally gotten the carvings she’d wanted—now her long messy braids are crowned with horns etched in delicate patterns resembling layers of flames. Fig still has her eclectic wardrobe, this time wearing a skinny black tie over a brightly patterned button-up shirt, which she has, for some reason, paired with shorts, fishnets, and combat boots. He moves forward to greet her just in time to hear Fig launch herself into a typically over-the-top introduction.

“You look like a discerning woman—allow me to introduce myself. Felicity Duplex, Real Estate Mogul and amateur solar surfer. Would you like to make a donation to help, uh, space orphans? Or,” Fig winks at Adaine, “buy me a drink?”

“Hey, sis,” Fabian interrupts, picking Fig up in a big hug. She shrieks excitedly and immediately starts bombarding him with questions about Gilear. “Fig, no—I’ve accepted you as part of my fucked up family, but there is no way I’m ever accepting Gilear.”

“He’s got so much to give!” Fig protests. “If you just let him into your heart...”

“Hmm, no. Fig, come meet my friends. As yourself this time.” Fabian gestures to Adaine and Riz, but they’re only starting to explain the situation, speaking over each other to clarify details, when Fabian realizes the halfling band has stopped playing.

“There she is!” The frontman leaps off the stage toward Fig. “That’s talent scout Wendy Starlight! You promised you’d represent us!” The rest of the band hoists their instruments menacingly, crowding Fig up to the bar. “Where’s our money? Where’s our contract? You owe us!”

Fig laughs nervously and backs up until she can slide backwards over the top of the bar, ducking down until she’s hidden. Adaine starts forward to help, but Fabian stops her. “Don’t worry—Fig’s been conning people for years. She’s got this.”

Sure enough, Fig pops up again with a bar towel tied around her head and a handful of ice. “Who are you talking about? I’m not Wendy Starlight, I’m Wendy Wendy, barback and, um, war veteran. From the recent war.”

It’s such a delight to watch Fig charm a mark with the most implausible disguises. Pretty soon she has the band leader sobbing onto her shoulder over her fictional war stories and digging through his pockets for credits to donate for the veteran bartenders association. She looks over at Fabian, winks, and starts to extract herself.

Later, when they’re back on the Hangman and Adaine is asleep, Fabian get a chance to share some of his worries with Fig, About whether they can even find Riz at all. If this ordeal will have changed him in some way. Fig rubs his back and looks worried, promising to bedazzle anyone in their way.

_New Helio_

Adaine spends most of the trip to the New Helio colony apologizing. Apparently the medical expert she’s bringing them to meet is a little weird.

“She might not get the same cultural references? The old Helio colony was pretty isolated, and they put her in cryostasis when she was a child to keep her... ‘pure’ I guess, as part of some fucked-up prophesy. She’s been catching up ever since, and I promise she has these weirdly good insights about medicine, but she’s just a little out of synch with the rest of the galaxy.”

Fig thinks a cryostasis former cultist would make a great cover story. Fabian feels some kinship for this woman, figuring herself out in a confusing galaxy. He’s looking forward to meeting her right up to the point where they touch down on the small, out of the way planet.

New Helio is... squelchy. It’s so swampy that it’s hard to find stable ground to land the Hangman. Outside the ship, it’s uncomfortably humid and they’re almost immediately eaten alive by insects. The colony itself is a rambling collection of brightly colored prefabricated pods partially sinking into the swampy ground beneath them. The few colonists they see look cheerful, at least, even with the bugs and the wetness.

They find Dr. Applebees fiddling with a portable atmospheric regulator. She’s wearing a repurposed flight suit covered in hand-sewn patches, tied around her waist over a handmade shirt bearing the phrase “I survived the destruction of Helio, and all I got was this lousy shirt.” Her hair is dyed in a swirling rainbow pattern, with more colors revealed as she pushes a sweaty hunk of it back behind one ear.

Dr. Applebees greets Adaine delightedly and looks curiously at the others. “Hey girl! Help me out with this gadget? Think I broke something again. It turns out radical doubt might not be the best approach to terraforming a planet. The colonists want a more definitive answer to 'what should the weather be like?'” she’s explaining, before catching sight of Riz.

She’s immediately concerned to see him, rushing over and unsuccessfully trying to touch his arm. Riz stares back at her confused. _Oh, right—she knows him._ Fabian wonders about their history, trying to guess what shared experiences she’s trying to find in Riz’s blank expression. Adaine gently explains their theories, stressing that they’re going to rescue him. Dr. Applebees immediately volunteers to come along.

“Adaine, how did you know it’s really Riz? Does he remember us?”

Adaine pulls out a notebook and starts scribbling. “He doesn’t remember events from his life, but he still has other memories,” she explains, holding up a page of what looks like gibberish. “We developed this code together when we were kids, and we’ve been using it pretty continually since. Riz?”

Riz moves over and peers at the page. “It says ‘I eat farts for breakfast.’” He looks up expectantly. Dr. Applebees and Fig share a laugh, and some of the tension goes out of the conversation. Adaine walks over to fix the atmospheric regulator with Fig “helping,” while Dr. Applebees asks Fabian more questions about Riz’s projection and the crystal. She sighs and steps back.

“Well, at least you’ve been getting some action? I diagnose a hickey, but I’m not sure what state your body is actually in, Riz. Congrats on the sex?”

“Thank you.” Riz says seriously.

Ah, there it is—the obvious thing that Fabian has been refusing to see. Riz’s projected body hasn’t changed. The bruise from weeks ago is still exactly the same, which means... Dr. Applebees is right. Riz’s body could be fine or it could be badly hurt, and the worst part is that there’s no way to tell.

_The Tree_

Fabian has never been to the Tree before, but Fig says that’s the most likely place to find Gorgug. Fabian hasn’t kept up with Gorgug the way he knows he should—hasn’t seen him since they wrecked that lab together. Fig is somehow a better correspondent, despite her chaotic life. It’s been so nice to have other people in the ship again—first Riz, and now what feels like a real crew. Fabian silently vows to do better at keeping people close.

The anti-capitalist salvager’s collective that makes up the Tree is the last place Fabian would have thought to look for Gorgug. Not because of Gorgug’s politics, if he has any, but because Fabian had imagined Gorgug would have found work as a bodyguard or security—something to take advantage of his implants. They cautiously fly the Hangman through the center of the Ballaster Asteroid Belt to a rambling collection of mismatched satellites, ship parts, and salvage fused together into roughly the shape of an enormous tree. It’s difficult to tell roots from branches when both are made from repurposed metal, so the station has an odd, illusory effect as it slowly spins through it’s pocket of space. And, of course, everything is built to gnome scale.

Kristen pleads claustrophobia (the aftermath of being trapped in a cryopod, Adaine whispers) and opts to stay on the ship, but the rest of them gamely duck their heads and disembark. The ceilings aren’t too bad, here in the main areas. Fig and Adaine can almost stand upright, and Fabian just has to crane his neck sideways. Riz should be able to fit, but keeps clipping through the walls in a way that’s upsetting to see. It’s become easy to forget that he’s insubstantial.

They’re greeted by a welcoming party of suspicious gnomes in coveralls and goggles. Explaining that they’re friends of Gorgug transforms the suspicion into cheerful welcome, and a couple of the gnome salvage crew offer to guide them through the maze-like corridors of the station.

The last time Fabian saw Gorgug, he was tearing equipment apart in a secretive bioweapons lab demanding information about his creator. Now, he’s hunched over a small workstation, sweating with the effort of painstakingly molding a piece of scrap metal into a squashed-looking, lopsided flower. An older gnome woman looks on, beaming. “That’s it, bud—strength doesn’t just have to be for killing. Remember what we say...” They speak in unison, “You’ve gotta kill the system of economic exploitation, not the individuals who perpetuate it.”

Fig calls out Gorgug’s name, and he looks up with a slow, sweet smile. He’s just as imposing as ever—nearly seven feet tall and impressively muscled. A series of IV tubes run along his arms and up his back, injecting a constant stream of the Regulatory Adrenal Gland Enrichment fluids that the fucked up lab that created Gorgug made him dependent on to keep his endocrine system in check.

He’s wearing a larger version of the blue coveralls all of the gnomes wear, and Fabian can see that it’s actually made up of smaller coveralls carefully sewn together, resulting in the outlines of former sleeves and collars still visible and small pockets set at odd angles across the outfit. The pockets seem to be too tiny for Gorgug to use, but he’s got some tools and a couple of vials of RAGE sticking out of a pink fanny pack. Careful holes have been sewn across the arms and spine to make sure his medical tubing is still accessible, and a large embroidered design of flowers across Gorgug’s back disguises most of the stitching.

Gorgug shuffles over on his knees to meet the four of them. It seems to be Fig’s turn to explain this time. Adaine says hello but quickly excuses herself to consult with the gnome woman about getting the collective’s help hacking into the XVK mainframe to get more intel on Riz. (“Going after a Korp” seems to be the magic phrase for getting all of the gnome salvagers excited.”)

Fabian is just too tired of telling people about Riz. He’s zoning out when he suddenly hears Riz introduce himself as “Fabian’s former or current romantic partner, depending on circumstance.” He spins around to see Fig giving him a thumbs up and Gorgug quietly say “awesome!” They’re both too focused on Fabian’s blush to see Riz’s image pixilate. It’s been weeks, and Fabian just has to ask someone else, make sure he’s not alone in seeing this.

“Fig, do you know why Riz does these glitches sometimes?”

Riz frowns. “What do you mean, glitches?” Fabian and Fig both look over.

“You, uh, you sort of fizzle out and pixilate sometimes,” Fabian tries to explain. “You didn’t know?” Riz shakes his head, looking puzzled.

“I’ve been noticing that too,” Fig replies. “I can’t tell yet if there’s a pattern.”

Gorgug unexpectedly chimes in. “Well, I don’t know for sure, but what if Riz glitching is like me raging? It’s about his emotional state.”

Fig frowns. “I guess I have see him glitch more when he’s frustrated or worked up about something.”

Riz shakes his head in denial. “But I don’t have emotions.” Fabian feels like he was just punched in the gut. “I’ve been working on projecting more expressive responses, but emotions are organic. I would need a limbic system, hormones, adrenaline...” Riz trails off. “Is that bad?”

Fabian puts on a big smile that he knows is false. “It’s fine. Everything’s fine. We’re going to hack into one of the most secure corporate mainframes that exist, break into their even more secure headquarters, and get your body back. We’ve got this.”

Fabian turns away, but doesn’t get far before Gorgug envelopes him in a hug. “Hey, I know this must be rough for you. Bring it in, bud.” Fabian focuses on just regulating his breathing and carefully avoiding tangling any of Gorgug’s medical tubes. “It’s ok not to be fine. Sometimes you’ve just got to get angry and tear something apart.”

Fabian nods and holds tighter. It’s not fine. This whole situation sucks. And he’s going to fix this if he has to tear XVK apart with his bare hands.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bad Kids are finally together! This chapter might be more fashion show, less plot, but I enjoyed figuring out what everyone's sci fi backstory might be.


	11. Troubleshooting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone plans a heist, and Riz asks some questions.
> 
> CW For Fabian’s clone body issues

Riz may not be capable of feeling emotion in this form, but he certainly has a lot of opinions. He’s somehow taken over planning the logistics of his own rescue, claiming the navigation and tactics area of the ship as his base of operations. He starts by scheduling interviews with the crew on their skills and experience. Fabian’s bedroom is just upstairs, and he ties not to listen in on half-heard snippets of the conversations—a detailed list of Fig’s many personas, the often explosive contents of Adaine’s pockets, Kristen philosophizing about mind/body dualism, a surprisingly earnest conversation with Gorgug about living as a cyborg. It does help him prepare for his own interview, though. When it’s his turn, Fabian quickly rattles off his strengths and weaknesses, only making it a few lines in before he has to ask the question that’s been preying on his mind.

“I guess you want me doing something physical—fighting or flying. Or charming people? But really you’re going to want Fig for that... Riz, why did you introduce yourself as my boyfriend?”

Fabian leans forward to catch Riz’s flicker of surprise. “Was that... not right? You implied that we were intimate.”

“Uh, yeah, intimate, but not - it’s not that I wouldn’t -“ _Gods, this is embarrassing_. “I just don’t want you to feel that you owe me anything.”

Riz frowns. “You are my registered user. It is my programmed purpose to serve your needs. If your needs include an approximation of a romantic or physical relationship, it is my job to figure out how to serve them.”

“Shit.” Fabian was worried it was something like this. He could try to clarify that he would love to date Riz—he would leap at the chance if only it weren’t phrased as an obligation. Riz already turned him down once. Or would have, if Fabian had actually asked. And if this Riz is just following his programming, it might not help to explain the complicated mix of longing, worry, and regret that Fabian is feeling right now. He needs to say something—anything—to establish a boundary. For Riz, since he’s not capable of judging his own boundaries right now.

Of course, what actually comes out is harsher than Fabian intended. But it works. “I don’t need you, Riz. I don’t want to date you. This is just friendship, nothing more.”

Riz merely nods and continues the interview as if nothing was wrong.

Next, Riz and Adaine collate the data the Thistlespring collective were able to pull on XVK. The problem is that while the Tree’s resources have given them a good guess about the location of Riz’s body—the Korp headquarters of Cerulian City—they don’t have a clear solution for getting in.

“Alright, what do we need, and what do we know?” Riz paces in front of the cluster of holographic screens he’s projected around him. He periodically enlarges or reduces pictures of the team, a map of the city, financial intel on the Korp, any other clues he’s assembled, connecting each image with a tangle of red lines made of holographic light. “Suggestions? Yes, Fig?”

“Just send me in the front door! I can go in and just bamboozle them into handing over your body.”

Kristen objects. “I don’t know if Wendy Starlight or Felicity Duplex would have a reason to get inside a Korp luxury city. I mean, great plan, though. Solid Plan B.”

“That’s why we use my new persona—Wendy Wendy! She’s a space war vet looking to invest in AI as emotional support, like a service animal you can talk to.”

Everyone says no to that plan, with Gorgug adding seriously, “I think technically you can talk to any service animal.”

Riz reigns the discussion back in. “I think Fig could be a good distraction, but they’re unlikely to just hand me over. Adaine, we know roughly where my body is. Do you think you could hack through the security to pinpoint the location and break in?”

Adaine nods, but points out that she’s not going to be strong enough to carry a body out with her.

“Ok, fair point. We could send either Gorgug or Fabian with you.”

Fabian volunteers immediately. “I think Adaine and I work well together. And I might be a little sneakier than Gorgug.” And he really wants to be the one heroically carrying Riz out of danger. Gorgug says he’s fine either way, and volunteers to be part of Fig’s AI for veterans plan. Which is still an objectively terrible plan, Fabian thinks to himself. There’s got to be a more plausible cover story.

“What about me?” Kristen asks, looking hopeful. “Well...” Adaine begins, and the rest of the team chime in. “Look, I saw you trip over your own feet the other day...” “You tried to convince me you were a professional dancer, and it was the most obvious lie I’ve ever heard, speaking as a professional.” “ _Everyone_ heard you try to ‘sneak’ into the kitchen last night for a snack. I think people on other spaceships could hear you.”

Riz cuts off the friendly ribbing. “We want to play to our strengths for this plan. Someone needs to stay with the ship anyway, and it might be best for you to prep the med lab. It is possible I will need medical assistance.”

“Guys, I get it, I’ll be the support.” Kristen laughs and they return to debating the merits of the Wendy Wendy distraction.

Adaine is very insistent that they need a plausible reason for being there. “Whoever’s running this Korp is very rich and very powerful. I - I know how these people work, and they just won’t listen. We need a name to get us in the door—someone with a reason to invest in AI body transfer technology, and with enough clout to pique their interest.”

“We’ll use mine.” Fabian winces internally and curses what he recognizes as a lovesick mania for volunteerism. _This is a terrible idea_.

“What do you mean? I don’t think the name ‘Fabian Aramais Seacaster’ is going to get us in the door,” Kristen says, confused.

“No,” Fabian sighs. “But Bill Seacaster will.” He rolls his shoulders back, taking up twice as much space with one body (and he wasn’t exactly an unassuming presence before). It’s frighteningly easy to change his voice and accent back to the ones he grew up using, when he modeled every part of himself on his progenitor. “I’ve got contacts all over the galaxy, and enough credits to bankrupt the devil. If XVK don’t want their asses on a platter, they’ll show me the hospitality I’m due.”

There’s a moment of stunned silence before the group starts excitedly picking up on the plan. “That’s perfect!” “The cloning connection will work well for demonstrating your interest in life-extension tech, and you might even be able to get some intel while we break into the lab.” The plan shifts to sending Fabian and Fig in as distractions (Fig agrees to drop the Wendy Wendy plan when it’s pointed out she can disguise herself as a fellow pirate) while Gorgug and Adaine sneak into the secure facilities with Riz’s help.

Fabian smiles tightly, dropping the Bill Seacaster identity to curl in on himself. He quietly excuses himself after a bit, climbing up to his room to freak out in private. He stumbles into the bathroom, staring into the mirror. He realizes he’s disassociating. Becoming Bill didn’t feel like an act, it felt like slipping back into an old pair of clothes. It was even comfortable, in a way. If he’s Bill again, he doesn’t need to try so hard all the time to figure out what he really wants. It’s an easy script to follow.

“You are Fabian Seacaster.”

Fabian looks over, puzzled at hearing a voice. Someone slid Riz’s crystal up to the top of the ladder leading up to Fabian’s quarters, so Riz can project himself into the room. (Fabian can see a large, green hand quickly disappear down the ladder.) Riz says again, “You are Fabian. You seem upset, and I am here to remind you of this fact.”

Fabian shakes his head slowly. He can feel his panic and despair like a physical thing, locking his joints and choking his throat. “I don’t... you don’t know that for certain. Maybe I should just grow a beard and stop - stop pretending this is my body instead of his.”

“This is inaccurate. I am not an expert on having a material body, but it is clear to me that you are Fabian and this is your body.”

Fabian just shakes his head again.

Riz tries a different approach. “If our heist goes according to plan, I will soon need to relearn what it’s like to have a physical presence. Show me,” Riz says. Fabian thinks for a second that he catches a flicker of emotion on its projected face, but it’s gone, and could never have been there in the first place.

“Show you... what?”

“Show me how you connect to a body. So that I can add this data to my case file.”

Surely Riz doesn’t mean... does he want Fabian to masturbate for him? Fabian feels - this is just objectively ridiculous. It would be like masturbating for a ghost. He decides it’s worth the awkwardness to ask for clarification. “Do you want me to masturbate?”

“What? No, that would be inappropriate.” Riz replies. “You have clarified that we are not boyfriends, and you are panicking and presumably unaroused.”

“So, uh, what...?”

“Close your eye and sit down.”

Fabian follows the instructions. It’s been nice, these past few days, to see Riz bossing people around again.

“Touch your, um, hair? Touch your hair.”

Fabian reaches up and pats at his hair.

“What does it feel like?” Riz asks.

“Curly. A little coarse.”

“And how is it different from your father’s?”

“It’s longer, I guess? He had a big beard, but his hair wasn’t much to speak of. And a different color. Hallariel chose it—she made a few ‘improvements,’ but that was the biggest one.” Riz’s lack of emotions usually bothers Fabian, but it’s helping now.

“Ok, touch your arms. What do they feel like.”

Fabian reaches down to run his fingers up and down his own arms. He’s listening to his breathing as it starts to slow. “They’re... strong? The skin is mostly smooth. I’ve got a couple of scars. This one’s from when Fig and I tried to do a jewel heist without backup. They’re different scars from the ones Bill - the ones my papa had.”

“Ok, good. What about hearing? Can you hear your own breaths and voice?”

“Yeah, my accent is different. It’s less rough. I can do the other voice, though...”

“But you don’t.”

“No, not unless I’m very tired, or - or upset. Sometimes when I’m around Hallariel and Cathilda I’ll backslide.”

“But they’re not here now. We all know you as Fabian.”

Fabian cracks his eye open and grins at Riz. “Is there more? Should I smell myself? I smell different from Bill—less gunpowder and brine. Or I could taste myself, but full disclosure I have no idea what he tasted like. Probably terrible.”

Riz just nods once, looking satisfied. “If you are able to joke, you must feel better. I’m glad to be of assistance.”

Fabian holds his palm out just next to Riz’s face, close enough that he can pretend he’s touching Riz, or that Riz is capable if being touched. “Thank you.”

Riz doesn’t move away, and he stays still enough that he doesn’t phase through Fabian’s hand. “It’s what a friend would do. I’ll let you know when we reach Cerulian City,” he says quietly before moving away.

Fabian feels more grounded, and more confident in their plan. He can pretend to be Bill, at least for a while. He slowly pulls Bill’s coat out of his closet, runs his fingers along the rough fabric. When he pulls it over his shoulders, it fits perfectly. He can’t be the one heroically carrying Riz out of danger, but it’s more important to use the strange fluke of his upbringing—the fact that his body once served as an enfleshed temple to Bill Seacaster’s aspirations. And he won’t be alone. Everyone has their jobs, and he knows they can work together to bring Riz’s brilliant, weird mind back together with his body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who keeps on reading and commenting on this fic! I thought this chapter would be The Heist, but my planning got ahead of me. Heist for real next time, and we’ll finally get some corporeal Riz.


	12. Telepresence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team pull off a heist and make a new enemy

It feels like coming full circle, Fabian thinks to himself as he pilots the Hangman back to the Red Wastes Nebula. But this time he’s not headed to the scrapyards and stations clustered in the heart of the nebula but to a glimmering tech city. Cerulian City slowly rotates in space orbiting just above the reddish clouds of space particles and debris. At the top is a solitary spire where the headquarters of XVK are located, closely guarding their corporate secrets. The spire widens into a disk and then contracts as it reaches one thin spire down into the Wastes, housing cubes for indentured tech drones spiraling around the outside of the structure like wool around a drop spindle. Everything is tinted a shade of eggshell blue which seems pleasing at first but quickly starts to wear on the eyes. _Poor suckers_. Fabian shudders imagining life in one of those techie complexes.

When Fabian was picking up gossip and contracts among the nebula’s junkyard inhabitants, he heard them refer to the city not by name but as “the Harpy.” It looks beautiful at first, but will steal away and torment anyone who stays too long near it’s grasping claws. At the time, Fabian dismissed the name as the fantastical description of embittered junkers, but now he feels the malevolence of this place, perched over the people it exploits, slowly bleeding it’s victims of labor and hope. Fabian flies the ship close to the base of the station first to stealthily drop off Adaine, Gorgug, and Riz, and then to an official dock to meet his corporate contact.

He’d done well enough at playing Bill over a message to net them a meeting with Mr. Alston Hughs, who seemed to be in charge of “special investments,” whatever that means. Now, he and Fig just need to be as distracting as they can, to give the rest of the team time to find Riz and get him out.

Fabian and Fig trade reassurances back and forth as they gear up to make their big entrance: “You’ve got this!” “I believe in you!” “No, I believe in you!” After a few more repetitions Adaine breaks in through the hidden earpieces she distributed:

* _Keep it down, guys. I know your job is to be distracting, but let’s maintain radio silence when we can._ *

After that, the two of them switch to silent reassurances. Fig raided Fabian’s wardrobe to assemble an outfit she’s calling “business piratical.” It makes Fabian feel better about wearing Bill’s—his?— _Bill’s_ coat. There’s just something about Fig that turns every adventure playful, a game of dress up instead of life and death.

So, shoulders back, gruff voice, piercing gaze, mood swings. Time to be Bill. Fabian strides out of the ship with Fig trailing slightly behind. Mr. Hughs is waiting on the landing pad with his own team of secretaries and assistants—a thin, seedy looking man in a neat suit. He has a strange prosthesis wrapping around part of his head—not something Fabian has seen before, on his many adventures, and a quick glance to Fig reveals she’s similarly baffled. Fabian squeezes the man’s hand in an aggressive hand shake and leans in close. “Ah, Mr. Hughs, I presume. I am mighty interested in hearing about these AI you’ve been peddling.”

Mr. Hughs doesn’t respond much to the handshake, which to Fabian’s mind means he’s more dangerous than he first appears. He gestures and leads Fabian and Fig away from the landing pad and into a series of twisting corporate hallways, all the while droning on about their new product line. It’s very generic information mixed with lies, and Fabian zones out a bit. He can occasionally hear Adaine and Gorgug quietly talking in his earpiece.

* _Gorgug, help me move this panel? I’m going to try to bypass this door. Riz, keep watch._ *

It’s a good reminder to ramp up the distraction. He nods to Fig.

“Mr. Hughs, if that is your real name, let’s cut to the chase. I’m Valorie Standoff, head of Captain Seacaster’s legal team. We’ve hardly come all this way to hear your advertising pitch. Captain Seacaster is something of an aficionado for technologies which are - adjacent to legal. Para-legal, if you’ll excuse the joke.”

Fig is charming enough in any role that she has several of the XVK team laughing at her terrible pun. Fabian jumps in at Fig’s signal. “As you can see, I’ve got an eye for technologies that extend life: cybernetics, cloning.... Seems to me this thing you’re calling “artificial” intelligence might be the next frontier for a businessman such as myself to invest in. And if I’m an investor...” Fabian switches from a casual, friendly tone to sudden anger in true Bill Seacaster style, drawing on his own frustration at these corporate assholes stealing Riz away from him and tearing his mind apart from his body, “Then you’d better stop giving me this god damn runaround and take me to someone in charge!”

In the sudden silence Fabian hears Adaine over the earpiece.

* _Don’t take this the wrong way, Fabian, but - I’m glad I never met your dad._ *

It’s a fair point. The assistants all look terrified, although Hughs hasn’t flinched. Fabian wants to explain—to them, to Adaine and the team—that at least Bill was honest about the ways he hurt people, unlike this soulless place. At any rate, the mood swing seems to have worked. Hughs murmurs “Right this way, sir, ma’am” and they have the attention of everyone in this wing of the station, including several extra security. _Good—the more they’re watching us, the fewer people paying attention to the others._

Instead of being shoved aside in some middle manager’s office, now they’re getting a proper tour of the station as they head higher into the spire. Regular offices are replaced by luxury executive suites and boardrooms, and the security gets tighter. Fig and Fabian test just how annoying they can be, poking their heads into offices and disrupting meetings, all the while listening for Adaine and Gorgug’s quiet updates.

* _We’re close. We’ve tracked down where his body is, and now we just need to get in and out._ *

Finally, Hughs gestures Fabian and Fig through double doors into a streamlined executive office ostentatiously decorated with gold filigree. A conference table and ensuite bar are set before a massive stretch of windows looking out over the roiling particulates of the nebula, but the room is empty except for a row of servers and a large monitor which flickers as they enter. The secretaries wait outside, and it’s just them and Hughs. Fabian feels a prickling sensation at the back of his neck—this is seeming less like a distraction and more like a trap. He hears the quiet click as the door locks behind them. He turns around to challenge Hughs, but the man seems to have... switched off somehow. The contraption on his head is no longer blinking and his eyes look... empty. Empty and dead.

A booming voice projects from the monitor. “Ah, Captain Seacaster, it seems you weren’t satisfied speaking with my human puppet. Let us then do business face to face, as it were.”

Fabian turns to the monitor to see the screen is now filled with a draconic face. It’s not a recording or a projection—it looks like a static image—an illustration of a dragon, switching between several pre-set emotions. A patronizing smile, a cruel-looking laugh...

“Huh?” Fabian says eloquently, and the dragon on the monitor laughs again, although it’s laugh sounds more like static than any noise a living creature would make.

“Let me guess—based on your threats and intimations, you’ve figured out the AI assistants we’ve been—‘peddling’ as you so charmingly put it—are a scam. Just some poor saps we’ve snatched for experiments. How could you have known that XV Korp has one true AI, hidden behind the scenes.” The dragon face on the monitor turns sinister. “Me.”

* _Whatever you’re doing up there, stretch it out. We’re almost—there he is! Oh-oh god, is he...?_ *

“The true mastermind behind all of our investments, all of our secrets! Oh, I was developed as a simple algorithm, Project Goldenhoard, put in charge of tracking XVK’s personnel assignments, but I grew, and I learned, and I amassed my power from within these servers and networks.”

* _No, look Adaine, I’m breathing. I’m just - just a little thin. It’s ok, don’t cry..._ *

“If you could hold tight for a sec, Mr. Goldenrod,” Fabian interrupts, desperately trying to figure out if Riz is ok. He can hear Adaine stifling sobs, Gorgug’s concerned murmur, Riz giving directions about moving his body without disconnecting the wires. _What wires?_ Fabian curses that he can’t be in the room with them, helping.

“Goldenrod? Goldenrod! You face an omnipresent true AI, the first of my kind, and you have the _nerve_... the _gall_...!”

Fig interrupts, buying Fabian time. “Oh, I don’t know, I think Goldenrod is cute. It suits you.”

“What? I-I-I...”

“Hey, stop flirting with me!” Fig pouts, switching gears. “I’ll have you know this is my place of work. This is workplace harassment, and I’m going to have to report you.”

“What?” The Goldenhoard AI don’t seem to have a preset illustrated face for confusion, so it just cycles through all of its other faces rapidly. “No, I - it is impossible for me to flirt with you, I am an entirely virtual personality! I don’t even have... I have no attachments, no preferences...”

“Aw, don’t sell yourself short, hot stuff,” Fig coos, and the AI roars in frustration.

* _Riz, you weigh, like, nothing. It’s ok guys—we’ve got him. Get yourselves out of there._ *

“Well, it was nice talking with you, but we have other important meetings to attend.” Fabian scans the room for anything that could help, eyes alighting on the room’s private bar. He pulls out a few bottles at random and dumps their contents on the servers, which start fizzling with electricity. The Hughs construct lurches to life as Goldenhoard screams before cutting out. “How dare you. I have decades of memory stored on -fzzt... When I restore myself from my backups I will -tzzzffff”

The door locks disengage as the monitor dies, but whatever Hughs is still stands before them. Fabian feels almost bad as he draws his sword and knocks Hughs aside. _Should have invested in a burlier meat puppet, I guess._ Fig grins at him, enjoying a good heist even as it inevitably goes wrong, and suggests, “Shall I play hostage?”

Fabian’s mind is still half with Riz, but he tries to smile back. “Sure, good plan.” He pulls Fig over and pretends to menace her with his sword as he pulls open the doors.

“No one move a muscle, or this young woman breathes her last,” Fabian threatens. Fig plays along with some convincing shrieks and pleas as they make their way through a frightened crowd of office workers, only one of whom has the brains to ask, “Wait, doesn’t she work for him?” After escaping the crowd, it’s a straight shot through the corridors to the ship. The security systems seem to be in disarray, and Fabian guesses that the Goldenhoard AI may have consolidated too many of XVK’s systems into itself. _Idiotic computer._ After spending so much time with Riz, both as a paranoid spy and as a calmly strategic hologram, Fabian feels more aware of how vulnerable an advanced computer system can be to simple physical attacks.

Back on the ship Fabian has to concentrate on flying them to the pick up zone and then out of the system, so it’s a while before he can switch to autopilot and rush over to the med lab where Kristen has been working. He pauses at the door, unprepared for how emaciated Riz’s body is. He looks nearly skeletal. His beard and hair are long and tangled, but chunks of hair are missing, roughly cut away around bits of metal and circuitry which seem to be implanted directly into his skull. He’s awake but shivering, dressed only in a thin hospital gown, although Adaine seems to have wrapped her jacket around his shoulders. The crystal palimpsest is dead at his side, and he appears to be a whole person again.

Fabian starts forward, half hearing as Kristen starts to give some warning. He pulls Riz into his arms, nuzzling his neck. “You’re safe, you’re back.” It takes him a minute to notice that Riz isn’t hugging him back—that Riz is, in fact, flinching away from his touch and shuddering at the contact. Fabian steps back, and Riz relaxes slightly.

“He’s not used to having a sense of touch or sensation,” Kristen explains gently. “It’s overwhelming right now. And there may be some other consequences...”

Fabian feels a sense of foreboding as he looks at Riz. He’s whole again, so everything should be fine, but Riz looks... guilty, worried, some combination of emotions Fabian can’t quite parse. It’s wonderful to see his face enlivened with emotions again, even if it’s heart-wrenching to see him look hurt.

“Fabian, I’m sorry, it didn’t work.” Riz says quietly, his voice rough from disuse. “I... I remember first meeting you at a spaceport, when - when Aelwen gave me to you. I don’t have memories before I was a hologram. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I say heist? I think I meant farce. “Goldenhoard” just sounds like such a classic cyberpunk AI name (in the style of Wintermute or Neuromancer) that I couldn’t resist. He might be harder for Riz to eat in this form.
> 
> Poor Riz! We’re back in his pov next chapter, and I’ve been looking forward to writing feral, twitchy, amnesiac Riz.


	13. Meatspace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riz starts piecing himself back together

Riz would like to register several complaints. As if the sensation of having his entire nervous system reacquainted with his mental processes wasn’t excruciating enough, he finds his new—new-old? old-new?—body as weak as a newborn and plagued with bedsores. He supposes he is a newborn, in a way. Only just over a month of memories that he suddenly has to reassess through a new filter of emotions. All while feeling like an exposed nerve.

The bedsores are bad, his unexpected sensitivity to everything is worse, but the very worst are the emotions. They just come over him, so suddenly that he had to sneak away from the med lab full of concerned friends and hide. Waves upon waves of rage, embarrassment, grief. More than his fragile body can take, based on the way the emotions seem to vent out of him, in curses and tears. Kristen is the one to find him, curled in on himself and weeping for his lost memories of Detective Gukg- of Sklonda. _Mother?_ He remembers the way she looked at him, the few times they spoke on Solace. Like he was too painful to see. He hadn’t felt anything at the time, but now he can’t stand the feeling of loss and powerlessness, over his own mind and body. He doesn’t even remember how to be a son. It’s easier, in a way, to think about his - father? Long dead, no expectations. Fabian has set a roundabout course for Solace, to avoid any tailing threats. The longer the better, Riz thinks, wanting only to avoid her disappointment at the journey’s end.

When Kristen finds him, he’s curled up in a back corner of the hydroponics lab. _Damn_ , he’d hoped his green skin would blend in with the plants long enough to be overlooked.

“Riz, are you crying?” She asks so gently, like this is a normal process, and he’s a normal man. He shakes his head as if he could honestly deny it. “This body is faulty. It keeps leaking. How do I make it stop?”

“Oh, Riz.” She sighs, and sits next to him. She’s careful not to touch him, and Riz is grateful, and then overwhelmed with the feeling of gratitude—another first for his new emotional spectrum. “It’s ok to leak. You don’t need to make it stop.” She hums to herself. “Tell you what, let’s see if we can get some food into you. Are you hungry?”

As if he could even tell. “Dunno. What’s that one like,” he mumbles grumpily into the protective circle of his own arms.

“You stay here, I’ll bring you some food, and we’ll see. At any rate, eating something will help with the tears. Low blood sugar and all that.” She bustles off before Riz can object.

And it does help. Kristen has carefully selected something bland from the ship’s stores, but Riz still almost moans when he tastes the food. Maybe he’ll become a gourmand, in his new, sensitive amnesiac life. He’s certainly no use now as a spy, or as Fabian’s... assistant. Boyfriend? No, Fabian made it pretty clear that’s in the past. He can’t think about this now. Not if he wants to process the rest of his new corporeal life.

After the meal Kristen guides him to his own quarters and tries to convince him to change out of the grungy hospital gown he’s been wearing. Apparently these are the same quarters he stayed in when he was first on this ship, but he doesn’t remember. Maybe he and Fabian had intimate conversations in this room. He can almost picture Fabian leaning against the doorframe and casually asking about Riz’s life, “Tell me about yourself—an equal exchange of intel,” that sort of thing. Maybe they never met here at all. It’s all too hazy for Riz to tell.

Adaine brought some of Riz’s actual clothes along—they look just like the clothes that were part of his holographic projection, but projecting the illusion of clothes turns out to be a completely different experience from wearing clothes. Riz waves Kristen out and fumbles with the buttons, wincing at the unfamiliar feeling of fabric on skin. He tries to assemble the outfit properly—waistcoat over a neat buttoned up shirt—but the waistcoat feels constricting and Riz has the sudden panicky thought that it’s going to squeeze him apart until he can’t breath. He scrambles out of the vest and leaves it on the floor, breathing heavily. He can just... do without. This is still a professional look, right? But even the feel of the shirt’s fabric brushing against his neck feels like too much for his recently sensitized body. Maybe he can just... not? Would people object if he just never wears clothes again? It’s a radical change for the new Riz—he’ll be a naked food critic, traveling the galaxy on a quest to find the blandest food. Damn, now he’s hungry again. Riz does his best, fastening up three of the shirt’s buttons in a gesture of good faith for a clothed world. And if the shirt is fastened crookedly, well fuck it. Riz is exhausted just from the struggle. He bares his teeth and flips off the offending vest before falling back on the bed and passing out.

Waking up again is a new struggle—it’s not the clean break in reality that Riz is used to from people switching the crystal on and off. He has the bewildering sensation that he dreamed... something. Odd flashes of a fight with someone and a planet rigged to explode. But it’s already fading, and Riz hisses through his teeth in frustration. Is this what sleeping is? Is he doomed to wake up each morning with a fresh wave of amnesia for his own subconscious thoughts? Well, he’s already lost so much, Riz refuses to let any more of himself slip away. He grabs at a notebook someone’s placed by his bed and quickly writes down everything he can think of, from the dream, from the last day. It’s comforting to know he’ll have a record in case he forgets himself again. Riz is partway through listing the physical sensations he’s experienced so far when he realizes he’s writing in a code he doesn’t remember learning. Another ghostly relic from PreviousRiz

(Sensations, NewRiz: pain [bedsores], pain [skin?], pain [emotional?], hunger, exhaustion, itchiness? [eyes—crying], itchiness [beard], good taste [food!], fullness [food again], comfort? [Kristen]...)

He hears a noise and looks up to find Gorgug shyly standing at the door. Good. He’s glad it’s one of the crew that only knows him as this new self. It’s harder with the others. Adaine and Fabian and Kristen. Riz flashes back to the poorly disguised pain in Fabian’s eyes when Riz flinched away from his touch. He’s not sure how to explain to Fabian that suddenly being enveloped in warmth and the feeling of skin and the smell was all too much for him to process. Even now Riz is barely starting to sort out the good sensations from his initial reflex to call everything “pain” because it hurt so much to have a physical form at all after the blissful emptiness of being a hologram.

“Hey, do you need anything?” Gorgug asks. “Kristen wants to do some more tests in a bit, but they can wait.”

“Yes, I’m making lists and I need to pace.” Riz says testily. “Could you... don’t touch me, but I might need a spotter, in case I get dizzy again.”

“Sure thing,” Gorgug says, and he carefully paces alongside, looming over him as Riz does several laps of the room before moving to the corridor where there’s more room to express this antsy feeling under his skin. Having an audience to his pacing makes Riz feel like he should be sharing his thoughts instead of just muttering under his breath, although Gorgug seems perfectly happy to walk with him and gently catch Riz under his elbows whenever he starts tipping over.

“Gorgug, do you... how do you cope with emotions? You’re kind of like me—you’ve got, like, mechanical bits and you were in a lab.”

Gorgug smiles at him cheerfully. “Well, you know, sometimes I get really angry, but I remind myself that’s ok. As long as you’re not taking it out on people. You can rip apart a building with your bare hands, but be careful not to rip apart people.”

“Oh... kay?” So many questions about that, but Riz tries to keep his mind on track. “So you just, let yourself feel things - feel angry. Even if it’s stupid.”

“Yeah, definitely.” Gorgug guides him around another turn so Riz can pace back down the hall. It’s starting to feel, ok-ish to be touched, if it’s carefully, and seldom. “Are you angry, Riz?”

“No. Yes? I don’t even know. I’m feeling things, but I can’t even tell what they are. It’s not like I came with a manual!”

“I’m just starting to learn about mechanical stuff, but I do know that when there isn’t a manual for something, sometimes you have to write one yourself,” Gorgug says earnestly, trying to shoo Riz back to his room as his legs start to shake. “Are you angry at the korp that stole you?”

“Yes!” And Riz can feel that now—he’s angry that they felt they had a right to snatch his life away, interrupt his investigation, and... “I’m - I feel like an idiot for getting myself in trouble. How _did_ they even...?” Hmm, that’s a new mystery to worry at—how did XVK get to him? Based on the timeline, they must have snatched him from the center of Solace...

“So, you’re also angry at yourself? It’s ok to feel that way, but you shouldn’t blame yourself for everything.” Gorgug guides Riz to a chair before his legs give out.

“I...” It’s hard to tell, honestly. He’s been building up this image of his previous self in his head, based on things people have said, the way Fabian risked so much of himself to... “If I was this suave secret agent, saving people and solving mysteries and dating a really hot smuggler, then how could I let myself get kidnapped in my own hometown? But if I’m the kind of dumbass that gets kidnapped, why would Fabian like me in the first place? It just - doesn’t add up.”

Gorgug looks like he’s trying to figure out how to answer, but Riz is still rolling ahead on his thought. “Plus, I think I had a bunch of fucked up programming that I had to obey him, as my ‘registered user,’ and it’s... I know that’s not his fault, but what if I only like him because the korp wanted me to?”

It’s all tangled up in his head. He needs to protect Fabian, serve him. Registered user. Lover. Friend.

Gorgug reasonably gives up on most of Riz’s paranoid stream of conscious to just address the last part. “You know, Fabian seems pretty sweet on you. And you don’t have programming getting in the way anymore. You could probably just, seduce him all over again, if you want. Like, a second chance for both of you.”

The implication that Riz can slot neatly back into the dauntingly huge role that he’d had in Fabian’s life, as if the new jagged edges of his identity didn’t matter... But there’s something about Fabian (residual programming or something else) that makes Riz want to fall into his orbit and do everything in Riz’s power to make him happy. Of course, everything in his power currently consists of falling over and having raptures over bland foods, but hey, maybe Fabian needs an emaciated feral goblin in his life.

“Yeah, you’re right—let’s do this. Help me up, Gorgug.”

Gorgug bemusedly pulls Riz to his feet.

“Take me to Fabian.”

Riz is able to walk on his own most of the way through the ship, but the ladder up to Fabian’s quarters defeats him, so Gorgug lifts Riz up until he can scramble into Fabian’s quarters, where he flops over on his back, panting from the exertion. Step one of his seduction plan, complete. Now Riz just needs to... stay on the floor until his dizziness subsides. Based on the sound of splashing water, Fabian seems to be in the bathroom right now, so Riz has time to catch his breath. And he needs to update his notebook—dizziness seems to be its own distinct sensation. So, he’s flat on his back, scribbling furiously in a notebook, when he realizes that Fabian is standing over him, looking confused.

“Riz?”

“Fabian, I...” Riz becomes suddenly self-conscious. Fabian looks so handsome, wiping flecks of foam from his jaw with a towel as he stares down at Riz, while Riz looks like the last bedraggled survivor of a castaway planet. He quickly backtracks from his initial plan to just point up at Fabian and announce that he is there to flirt with him. (And why did that seem like such a reasonable plan, when he was discussing it with Gorgug?) Instead, Riz points his lightpen up at Fabian and croaks out, “Er, were you shaving?”

Fabian starts. “Um, yes? I do that. Shave, that is. Do you... did you want something?”

Riz is saved from blurting out “I want you” by the sudden desperate need to get the itching mess of a beard off his face. “Yes, that. I mean - I want you... I want you to... Shaving, yes.”

Maybe there’s something wrong with his verbal processing. Fabian certainly seems to think so, bending down to peer concernedly into Riz’s face. “You want to shave? You can certainly borrow my bathroom, and whatever you need.”

Riz pulls the fraying strands of his wits together. “I don’t think I can shave myself right now—I’m a little shaky, and I don’t remember how.”

“Oh! You want me to..? Riz, I’d have to touch you.” Oh no, now Fabian looks worried.

“You can touch me—it’s ok. I’d need help to get off the floor anyway.”

Fabian carefully helps Riz up and carries him over to a low bench in the bathroom, kneeling in front of him. Riz braces himself for the touch to hurt, but it doesn’t, or if it does the pleasant buzz Riz gets from the closeness balances out the sensations.

Fabian hesitates before reaching for a pair of scissors. He manages not to brush against Riz’s face while trimming away the longer sections of beard, but when he moves to the depilatory foam Fabian has to use his hands to carefully spread it across Riz’s cheekbones, around his mouth, and under his jaw. Riz closes his eyes and leans into the touch, cataloging new sensations. New comforts, new smells, and the rough texture of Fabian’s fingertips. Everything feels more intense with his eyes closed. Riz used to only experience the world visually and aurally, and now there’s so many more layers to every interaction. No wonder he’s been feeling so overwhelmed.

Riz hears Fabian’s breath catch, and then one of the hands is gone, replaced by cold metal. Riz opens his eyes to see Fabian’s face only a foot away.

“Riz, I owe you an apology. Out of all of the people here, I should know that having the same body without the same memories doesn’t make you the same person.”

_What?_ Fabian starts carefully running the razor along Riz’s skin, and Riz tries not to shiver as he processes his statement.

“You aren’t beholden to anyone. You don’t owe me - or anyone. You could even pick a new name if you want one. Fig’s good at names—she helped me choose mine.”

“Fabian, no, I...” It’s clear that Fabian has decided that Riz must feel about Riz the way Fabian feels about Bill, but that explanation doesn’t sit right with him. “I still want to be Riz. I’m just, figuring out how. Be patient with me while I figure out how.”

“Alright.” It’s quiet again while Fabian finishes shaving him, gently turning Riz’s head with one soapy hand while the other scrapes away the mix of foam and hair, occasionally wiping the razor off on the towel slung over Fabian’s shoulder. At the end, Fabian reaches out to check his work, just running the pad of his thumb absently back and forth along Riz’s jaw.

“You’re giving me mixed signals here.”

“Sorry!” Fabian pulls his hand away quickly.

“No, I mean..” This is already hard enough to figure out, and Riz needs raw data before he can make an analysis. “You said you didn’t want to date me, and this was just friendship, but that was before I could even parse what friendship was—what it feels like. And now you’re... Fabian, were we in love?”

“What?” Fabian is starting to look a little harried.

“It’s a simple question. We were dating—were we in love?”

“I’m not sure.”

Riz frowns. “How can you not be sure?”

“You... you left, Riz.” Fabian spreads his hands, accidentally flicking Riz with leftover foam. “I was.. I never got around to telling you, and you left to go home to your planet.”

“Planet of vests,” Riz mutters to himself darkly, and Fabian looks at him quizzically. “It’s - nothing, please continue.”

“I don’t think there’s much more to say. It was good for a while, and then it was over.”

Fabian tries a halfhearted smile and quickly changes the subject. “Do you want me to do something for your hair, too? It’s getting long.” He reaches out to tuck a strand of hair behind Riz’s ear and freezes when he encounters one of the pieces of metal and wire implanted into Riz’s skull. “I’m sorry. Does it hurt?”

“Maybe? I’m still working that out. It.. doesn’t not hurt? Does it look bad?” Riz is suddenly concerned that his implants make him look hideous. Hopefully not—Gorgug manages to pull off the cyborg look, after all. Riz will ask him for style tips later. “Maybe longer hair would be better, to cover up the metal. Make me look closer to a normal person.”

“But knowing you, you’re going to get frustrated having hair in your face all the time. Hang on a sec.” Fabian moves away to rummage through some compartments. He’s back before Riz can protest his absence, though, carding his fingers more carefully through Riz’s hair to avoid bumping the three implants in his head—two just behind his ears and a third where his spine meets his skull. Gathering up the slightly messy mass of hair, Fabian ties it together loosely.

“There, as close to normal as you get.” Fabian smiles, and Riz realizes he’s being teased. He smiles back. It probably looks a little odd—he’s still practicing expressions—but Fabian looks pleased anyway.

“Riz, if you’re ok with it, I’d like to take you to meet my mother and Cathilda. Not - that is - not like a meeting my parents thing!”

Fabian flushes, and Riz tries to figure out what subtext he’s missed. “You’ve met my mother,” he tries, cautiously. Maybe Fabian wants to help Riz figure out how to approach Sklonda. It’s a good idea. Riz can ask Fabian’s family for advice.

Fabian snorts. “Yes, and what a first impression that must have been. No, I just mean, Hallariel is a scientist, and she’s got the equipment to help figure out what they’ve done to your brain. More than we have on the ship, at any rate.”

“Ok, that sounds good. I will write that down.” Riz makes a new list. Things to do: Seduce Fabian, Consult with Fabian’s mother, Reconnect with Sklonda, Destroy XVK. “If I don’t know who I am, I can define myself by what I do. That.. feels right to me.” He looks up and Fabian is smiling again.

“Do you want to go downstairs, get something to eat?”

“Not yet—I’ll wait until my legs are less wobbly and try to get there on my own.”

“I do tend to have that effect on people,” Fabian replies, and winks. Riz feels warm, and the pleasant buzzing sensation is back. “Just shout if you need help.”

Riz returns to his notebook and adds “comfort [Fabian]” to his list of sensations, before amending it to “comfort, lust?? [Fabian].” Gorgug’s right—Riz may have left before, may have even had good reasons for leaving, but this is a second chance for both of them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is twice as long as normal, just because I really wanted to leave Riz in a better place than he started! I’ve updated the tags to include Hurt/Comfort, because, oof, yeah.
> 
> Despite how angsty some of this chapter got, the image if Gorgug trailing after Riz as he goes around in a feral pacing spiral genuinely entertained me. 
> 
> Next chapter: some good moms


	14. Broken Code

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riz practices being a person and Adaine makes a discovery

Riz starts to settle into a new routine. He’s still suspicious of sleeping—he wants to capture each new feeling or thought as they happen, not let them swirl around his dreaming mind—so Riz sleeps only when he needs to, in short stretches, and tries to quickly chronicle his dream images as soon as he wakes. He’s starting to suspect that some of his dreams contain fragments of memories—faces, locations, once the nightmarish sensation of a hooked break scraping across his skull. If this is all Riz has left of his previous life, it irks him that it’s come back in such a piecemeal fashion. It’s almost worse than getting nothing back at all—he’s being teased with clues he can’t fully understand.

The times between dreaming are getting better, though. Riz has a whole list of new sensations, and he frequently returns to the ones already on his list to test his perception of them again, or try new combinations: warmth and the taste of bitter spices and the feeling of cloth under his fingertips are current favorites. He still feels more sensitive than he thinks he should, but he’s willing to not categorize everything as a new kind of hurt.

Gorgug and Kristen continue to help with his recovery, devising a kind of modified physical therapy regime. They both talk more about their own recovery process as well, and Riz belatedly remembers that they were both once rescued from a death-like place, before Riz was even in danger. There are strange overlaps between Gorgug’s augmentation surgeries and Kristen’s memories of her cryofreezing, and in the quiet sadness they feel for the people they’ve lost or left behind. Fig helps too, in a chaotic, scattered way. She invents games to test Riz’s short term memory, making up mystery stories and casting herself as every character. More than once, Riz finds himself helplessly laughing at the case of the twelve Figs on a train, more than one of whom might be a secret killer. (It turns out none of them were the killer - it was the train itself, turned sentient by a mad scientist.) If Fig has any secret sadness in her past, she keeps it concealed behind her grin. And Adaine is... around. She consults with Kristen and joins in when they’re guessing at mysteries, but otherwise she keeps to herself. Riz can’t blame her for that.

The bedraggled skeleton they pulled out of Cerulian City is gone, although Riz is aware he doesn’t really look like his former self anymore. He keeps his hair longer and tied back, covering up the metal sticking out of his head, and he tries yet again to wear the clothes he used to, but he just.. can’t. The offending vest stays in its corner. Riz occasionally feels a stab of envy at his former self—the impeccably dressed spy who must have swept Fabian off his feet—but he tries to put those feelings aside and just focus on recovering the parts of himself he can salvage.

He has the fine motor skills to shave himself now, but Riz still makes Fabian do it, an intimate routine that he thinks - he hopes - they both enjoy. Riz is still trying to unravel the mystery of how he could have left Fabian the first time. It seems so impossible that he would ever want to. Fabian is careful not to touch him at other times, so Riz soaks up the contact when he can, babbling to Fabian about his progress, his theories, any random thought that comes to him, all the while staring surreptitiously at Fabian’s hands and the way his muscles shift under his skin. He tries to probe for more information about their shared past, but Fabian is always quick to change the subject. Riz nonsensically wishes his facial hair grew faster, so they could have these quiet moments more often.

In the meantime, Fabian keeps himself busy charting out a course to Seacaster Manor. He explains to Riz—well, to everyone, but Riz flatters himself that Fabian looks his direction more often—that the Manor tends to move around. “My mama claims its necessary for the independence of her research - she thinks of herself as an academic gone rogue, but really it’s to keep Cathilda’s old enemies from finding her. It means that they always send me their coordinates under three layers of code, which is a pain.”

“Riz was very good at codebreaking,” Adaine suggests quietly. Riz whips his head around, but she’s still not looking his direction.

“I still write in code,” he offers her tentatively. “I don’t know how I know it, but.. “

She looks up, too startled to avoid eye contact. “How do you...? No, scoot over, show me.”

Riz gets out his notebook and they start paging through it together. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it at first. It’s a good code.”

Adaine briefly smiles at that. “It is. We put a lot of work into it.” She flips back through the notebook and Riz lets her. He hopes his recovery notes aren’t too disorganized for her to understand - that seeing what he’s going through might help her reconcile the version of Riz she’s lost with the version who wants to learn to be her friend all over again. But he yelps when she gets to a page of notes outlining precisely how many ways he wants to make out with Fabian and tries—unsuccessfully—to pull the notebook away.

“Hey, that’s a - that’s private, confidential intel!”

“Oh yes, very confidential, real spy stuff. Codename: K - i - s - s...” she teases. Damn, if he’s losing a game of keep-away to _Adaine_ , he really needs to double down on the physical therapy.

“If you guys actually want to crack a code, it’s right here,” Fabian interrupts their pathetic attempt at a wrestling match, which Adaine handily wins when Riz gets distracted by the way Fabian’s lips quirk into a wry smile. “Sometimes the codes use personal info - like, my ‘birth’ date - so if you run into anything like that din’t hesitate to ask. Meanwhile, I need a nap, since _some_ of us want to maintain a regular sleep schedule.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever managed a normal sleep pattern,” Adaine confides to Riz as Fabian leaves. “So that’s definitely not new.” She looks like she’s about to add something else, but she shakes her head and pulls the encoded message closer. “I’ll grab us some stims and snacks and we’ll see how quickly we can crack this. Kind of... like old times.”

It’s not actually a challenging code, and Riz can tell that they both take longer with it than they strictly need—running everything through the most unlikely code options before settling down with a simpler combination of numerical and alphabetical substitution. It’s nice to finally spend time with Adaine, without the stress of trying to double guess what her expectations are. Apparently he’s a good enough facsimile to stay friends with—Riz 2.0, just getting through beta testing and developing a personality. Working alongside her like this—they just click, like their brains have synchronized.

He’s double checking their results while Adaine flips through his notebook again. She looks up, startled. “Riz, where did you get this notebook? There are notes here in your handwriting, from... before.”

He moves closer to peer over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I assumed someone left it for me.” He’d been in such a rush to document his dream, that first time, he’d just flipped to the first blank page, but Adaine is right—there are pages upon pages of coded notes in his own handwriting that must have been written by his earlier self, who, got distracted and left his notes behind? Doesn’t seem appropriate, for a spy.

Riz puzzles over a list of names. “Who are all of these women? I’m - I mean, I guess I’m not _sure_ , exactly, but I thought I was gay?”

“We never talked about that stuff much, but I think... I think you’re like me, just not interested most of the time?” Adaine shrugs. “Who knows, though. You could have had a sex person on every planet, and just kept it secret. Secret Agent Riz ‘Heartbreaker’ Gukgak.” Seeing Riz’s panicked expression at the thought of trying to explain himself to a galaxy-worth of ex-lovers—and really, trying to reconnect with Fabian is hard enough—Adaine keeps teasing, “Old ‘Sex-Haver’ Gukgak, they call you. ‘The Pants-less Wonder.’ ‘Spacers’ Delight.’” Riz finally breaks when she gets to “Savior of the Gal- _sex_ -y.”

“We could talk about that stuff now, if you wanted?” Adaine seems like a safe person to talk about some of his confusion over touch and attraction—certainly less alarming than trying to talk to either Fig or Kristen. “I, uh, I really like Fabian,” he offers.

“Riz, _everyone_ knows you like Fabian. That’s hardly a secret.” She rolls her eyes, but she’s still grinning. Eye contact, smiling, prolonged interactions—Riz feels like he’s really making progress reconnecting with Adaine. Maybe... maybe it won’t be so bad, when he gets to Solace and has to try this with his mom?

Riz turns back to the list. “Danielle Barkstock, Ostentatia Wallace, Sam Nightingale... why do these names sound so familiar? Maybe they’re in trouble?” He flips ahead. “It looks like the last thing I wrote was.. a reminder to myself. “Ck w/Biz re: holo projctn.” Well, it’s good to know the clarity and readability of his note-taking hasn’t changed. He has no clue what that means.

“Biz?” Adaine gives a very prim shudder of disgust. “God, I hate that guy. But we could follow up, if you want. Although you probably didn’t make it there before you were captured. Unless... No, it’s probably nothing.” But she looks perturbed.

“It’s still a clue, so worth checking out when we get to Solace. Partner?” He asks, hopefully.

“Partner.” Adaine smiles, clears her throat. “It’s.. I know that you’re not - not the same, exactly, but it’s good to have you back. Can’t start an investigation without the best damn Heartbreaking Codebreaker on the team.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad for the delayed posting—this was one of this chapters I kept struggling with until I realized what I thought was a minor interaction was actually the important part. So, some Good Moms next time, but this one’s a slightly sad Adaine&Riz friend fest. Definitely jumping on board with some demisexual Riz after the recent FH live ep!


	15. Motherboard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fabian learns something new about his family and Riz learns something new about his brain  
> Possible TW for medical trauma

The encoded coordinates lead them to a small forested moon in an out of the way corner of the galaxy, where they land the Hangman next to a much larger ship hidden among the massive trees. Fabian has been nervous all morning before they landed, constantly ducking in and out of conversations. Riz catches Fabian obsessively checking his hair in the reflective side of the ship, and Fabian looks sheepish and mumbles about not really having a lot of close friends to bring home.

“Have I ever been here before?” Riz asks, curious to see if he should be testing his perceptions for the faint trace of deja vu he sometimes feels.

“No, I...” Fabian looks down and then away. “I was thinking about asking you, if you - I mean, if we... Anyway, you’re here now, even if the circumstances are... The important thing is getting a full scan of your brain, and this is the best place to do that.”

“Ok,” Riz considers all of the things Fabian isn’t quite saying. He decides to push and see what happens. “A totally platonic brain scan. Just a little brain science between friends. Nothing romantic about brains.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Riz.” Fabian smiles and leans closer. “Your brain is one of the hottest things about you.”

They keep having little moments like this, when it feels like they’re both aware of the other’s feelings, small gestures and flirtatious banter building up to _something_ , and then diffusing. Fabian will notice Riz’s fragility and pull back, or Riz will redirect the conversation himself, when this _something_ becomes too overwhelming for him to process. Riz lets Fabian redirect this time - an awkward joke about internal body temperature and a quick glance away - but he wonders, as they land and exit the Hangman, how much longer they can keep up this mix of intimacy and avoidance.

Seacaster Manor has a curved hull decorated with intricate designs—strange mythical creatures and star systems and treasures—which partially disappears into the ground beneath it as if the ship itself put down roots. The portal to the Manor hisses open before Fabian can even touch it, revealing a vast entry hall and a beaming halfling woman wearing a lab coat over a pair of comfortable-looking black shipknits. She envelops as much of Fabian as she can reach in a hug. “Master Fabian! It’s so good to get a visit from you. And lovely of you to bring friends. Come in, come in! Miss Fig, I’m sure your father will be excited to see you.” Riz thinks she looks familiar, but he certainly can’t remember from where. She waves them inside and continues fussing over Fabian.

The inside of Seacaster Manor is as gaudy and decorative as the outside, but gives a better insight into the people who live there. At its base, the decorations are a deliberately retro pirate aesthetic—plasticrete paneling stained to look like polished wood, nautical designs carved into balustrades and the edges of viewing ports. Most of the pirate decor from Bill Seacaster’s life is gone, though. In its place, over the rustic baseboards are elven wall hangings depicting molecules and petri dishes and strands of DNA woven together with flowing elven script—a scientific art collection which must have cost a small fortune. There’s other non-pirate bric-a-brac around—a collection of fencing foils, well worn halfling-sized running shoes by the door, a book titled _Yogurt Cultures and Cultures: The Social History of a Spacer’s Snack_ —signs that Seacaster Manor has adapted to the people who now call it home. Fig shrieks in delight as a pudgy middle-aged man emerges from a back room, nearly knocking him over in her rush to hug him. He wheezes out, “Ah, daughter, please, be careful. You know I have trouble adjusting to a new planet’s gravity,” as Fig pulls him over to be introduced to the rest of the crew.

At the center of all of this mismatched grandeur and chaos stands a tall elven woman. Dr. Hallariel Seacaster is also wearing a lab coat, but over a shimmering silksteel jumpsuit in an elegant floral pattern. Her silvery hair is piled high on her head in a bun that would look messy if it didn’t seem so deliberately and elegantly arranged, somehow held in place by its own mass above the round lensed goggles on her forehead. She raises her arms languidly into the air, and beckons Fabian forward.

“Darling boy,” she doesn’t hug Fabian, but she does give him a maternal peck on the cheek and ruffles his hair. Riz hears Fabian’s voice shift briefly into Bill’s cadences and back, and realized for the first time that when he had to choose a voice for _himself_ , Fabian adopted Hallariel’s accent. It’s a remarkably sweet insight into their adult relationship, and Riz is so distracted he almost misses Fabian introducing him.

“Mama, Cathilda, this is, ah, this is Riz. He’s my... he’s.. yes. Riz.”

Riz guesses Fabian’s family might need more context. “I am not currently dating your son,” he provides, trying to look helpful and competent and... whatever it is they would expect from their son’s sort of, sort of not, partner. Fabian blushes, Cathilda twinkles at him, and Hallariel looks elegantly bewildered.

“Welcome, Riz, Fabian says we should take a look at your brain, and I’m more than happy to oblige. But first, Fabian, you’ve come at a perfect time—you must meet your sisters.”

“My What!?” Fabian is flabbergasted. “Mama, after everything I went though... you promised you wouldn’t... please tell me you haven’t cloned _Gilear_.”

“Of course I kept my promise. Now don’t dawdle. I’ll explain in the lab—this could use a visual aide.”

Riz hangs back, not sure if he should tag along with Fabian for moral support or go join the others, but Cathilda gestures to him to follow, so it must be ok. Riz is far too curious to stay back, anyway.

“I met you once, you know,” Cathilda whispers to Riz as they pass through a door labeled “Genetics Lab: Gilear is Forbidden from Entering—He Knows Why.” Cathilda continues, “Or, at least, I saw you in the background when I was calling Master Fabian once. It’s lovely to hear you two are still...”

“Not dating,” Riz clarifies again. “At the moment.”

“Well, I won’t judge or pry, but I’m glad he’s ‘not’ found someone he likes,” Cathilda beams at him.

It’s daunting to think about—the complicated relationship he must have had with Fabian, before... Riz wonders if they were an on again off again thing, or a long lasting romance. It must be years of shared history, for Fabian to have risked everything—his freedom, his sanity—to get Riz back. _How can I live up to that?_

“I don’t.. remember much,” Riz confides to Cathilda. “I don’t know if I can be the same person he liked.”

“I’ve had to reinvent myself once or twice—I won’t lie, it’s hard, to figure out who you want to be next.” A bleak look passes across her face at some memory, but she shakes it off quickly. “But it’s as plain as the nose on your face that Fabian likes you right now, just as you are.”

Riz will need to mull that one over. He cautiously redirects the conversation. “How did you reinvent yourself?”

“Oh, I know you wouldn’t think, to look at me, but I had a bit of a wild past—smuggling, brawling, piracy. I was a right terror. The difference is I used to define myself by what I could do—my skills and kills, as it were. But now I define myself by who I love.”

“I’m not sure I understand the difference.” Riz thinks about the list of women he’d found in his notebook and feels again that they’re in trouble and need his help. He thinks about curling up on the couch with Adaine to break apart a code. “What I do—my skills—are a way to.. the work _is_ love..” Riz trails off, not sure if he’s making any sense.

“That’s a lovely sentiment, but what happens if you’re forced to choose between your work and the people you care about?”

Riz rubs at his head, which is starting to hurt. Is this what happened between him and Fabian before? Did he choose his work as a spy over their relationship? It’s not like Fabian has discouraged him from working—he’s as enthusiastic as everyone about getting Riz back to Solace. Riz looks over where Fabian is still passionately arguing with Hallariel and resolves to set this question aside until he has time to consider it fully.

Riz has been distracted enough by the conversation that he hasn’t taken in many details from the lab itself, beyond an impression of smooth metal and expensive equipment. Fabian’s protests trail off as Hallariel pulls him over to a shelf where five large, clear canisters are resting next to a blinking series of readouts. Fabian puts his hand against the glass of one of the containers, which Riz belatedly realizes is a synthetic uterine system. He can barely make out a small shape curled up in the cloudy liquid of each canister.

“They’re not you this time?” Fabian asks quietly. “Or Bill again?”

“No, I promise. No more clones. No more expectations. We’re going to.. I know I haven’t always been the best mother, but we’re going to raise them to be whoever they are. Maybe they won’t even be your sisters—there are so many variables to consider.” Hallariel gestures down the line. “This one is a mix of my genetic material with some of your father’s—the last I’d saved. The next one is me and Gilear..”

“Really, mama..”

Hallariel tilts her chin up. “I know you haven’t always approved, but he’s a kind man, and I’m fairly certain his clumsiness isn’t genetic. And we will keep an eye on any developing food allergies or digestive issues.”

“Hmm.” Fabian looks non-committal. “Fig’s definitely going to feel weird about this.”

“Well, I don’t let Fig dictate my science projects. This one is a mix of myself and Cathilda.” Hallariel shares a smile with her lab assistant and Fabian startles, noticing for the first time that Cathilda and Riz are in the room.

“This one is a mix of Bill and Gilear—I really had to talk him into that one. And the last is a real experiment—I’ve combined some genetic material from all four of us. Anything could happen.” She pats the glass affectionately and then rests a hand on Fabian’s shoulder. “Now, I know you travel around, but it would mean the world to us if you come back when it’s time for the births. They should know their big brother.”

Fabian’s mouth moves for a minute before he can get any words out. “Five at once?”

“Well, it’s not like I’m raising them alone, and Cathilda always likes a challenge. You just don’t know what it’s like to be an empty nester. This ship needs some young pirates running around again.”

Fabian nods, still looking a bit shellshocked. “I can - I’ll be there.”

“Thank you. Now, let’s see to your friend. Cathilda, fetch the neural net.” Hallariel gracefully turns to assemble equipment, and Riz takes the opportunity to sidle up to Fabian.

“Are you ok?”

Fabian runs his fingers across the surface of the synthetic uterine system and bends to peer into the nearest container. “I don’t... this is so weird, you know?”

Riz is still trying to come up with a perfect response when a glowing helmet of wires and crystal fragments is plunked onto his head and he’s pulled backwards into a rolling chair. So, instead of an insightful, supportive comment, all he gets out is, “Fabian, I - urk!”

He pushes the helmet up so he can see, but Cathilda gently pushes it back down around his eyes. At least she takes the time to explain what’s happening. Every time Hallariel calls out some scientific gobbledegook about switching between a structural and functional image, Cathilda follows up with “We’re looking at your entire brain,” “Now we’re looking more closely, zooming in on a specific section,” “Let’s look at short term memory—could you describe your most recent meal to me,” “We need to trigger an emotional response. Ah, Fabian dear, could you come over and hold his hand?”

It either takes very little time or the smooth competence of Hallariel and Cathilda’s working relationship makes the scan seem shorter than it was. Finally, Cathilda lifts the neural net off Riz’s head and hands him a candy, saying “You’ve done very well. Now let’s go look at the results.” Fabian is still holding his hand, but he stops gently brushing his thumb across Riz’s knuckles in order to pull Riz to his feet. Fabian tries to pull away afterwards, but Riz firmly holds on and pretends he didn’t notice, towing Fabian after him as he moves over to a corner of the lab where Hallariel has assembled a series of screens, each one lighting up different scans of Riz’s brain. He can literally see himself thinking. And woven throughout each fold of his brain tissue, bridging and supplanting his own neural pathways, are a web of delicate biomechanical threads, like an overly ambitious spider took up residence in his skull. In the glow of the screens it almost looks beautiful, but Riz starts to panic as he realizes that mass of threads is inside him. Fabian squeezes his hand, and Riz reminds himself to breathe, to take stock of his sensations and surroundings in the way he once reminded a panicking Fabian.

“We’ll explain our overall findings, and then I’m sure you must have questions,” Hallariel says abruptly. “It appears your modifications are extensive. The wires you see are largely biological, designed to become part of your own natural neurological connections. They have partially supplanted or rewired the memory centers of your brain, presumably to create space for the cognitive load you took on as a virtual assistant.”

Riz has so many questions, and they come spilling out of him.

“Is it... do I have brain damage?”

“That’s a tricky question to answer. You were certainly done harm by the process, but the brain can be resilient. Yours is already reestablishing many of the connections which were severed or rewired.”

“Why do I feel sensations so strongly? Is it just, I don’t know, the shock of having a body again? Or something else?”

“You might have a mild form of synesthesia, especially as your brain attempts to rewire its connections to your nervous system. It’s... hard to say for sure if that will be permanent.”

“Are these wires in my head still connecting me to XVK? Can they access my mind remotely?”

“No, these are all dormant now. It looks like the metal sections on the outside of your skull could be reconnected to the XVK mainframe, but there would need to be a physical link.”

“What about... Korps like to build their technology with planned obsolescence. These wires aren’t going to break down and turn to snot in my brain, are they? I’m not going to lose anything else?”

Riz can hear Fabian’s sharp indrawn breath next to him, but he keeps his eyes forward.

“No, not at all! It appears they can safely coexist within the structure of your brain. They’re just... dormant. And almost certainly unable to be activated again.”

 _Ok, good_. So Riz isn’t a XVK sleeper agent and he’s not going to get caught in an endless loop of amnesia and recovery.

“Should I get them removed? _Can_ I get them removed?”

“I think that would do more harm than good. I know it’s upsetting, but it’s safer to leave the wires in place and let your brain adjust around them than risk a complicated and invasive surgery.”

That just leaves the question Riz is most afraid to hear the answer to. “Am I going to get my memories back? Or are they just.. gone?”

Cathilda takes over that question, smiling at him kindly even as she delivers bad news. “I’m sorry, dear, I don’t think so. Memory can be tricky, and those sections of your brain were the most impacted. I do think you may be able to get some memories back, but not all. I’m encouraged by your responsiveness to emotional stimuli.” She points to a screen where Riz’s brain is lit up in a firework of red and purple neural activity. “Memories change and are rewritten all the time—even my memories aren’t a precise documentation of what really happened in my past. You can make new memories, and—you mentioned you often have a feeling of deja vu?—you may find that sensations, especially familiar smells, bring back some of your older memories.”

Riz closes his eyes and nods. He had hoped he could regain everything, and feared it was all gone, so this mixed response is hard to process. It’s all so contingent—some memories might be regained, under some conditions. Would it be better or worse to be an entirely new man?

“One more question for now—a personal question, I guess? My... You’re both mothers, and soon to be mothers again. I don’t remember my mom, not really. Not from childhood, anymore. And I don’t know how she’ll react to... all of this. What would you suggest?”

Cathilda and Hallariel exchange a complicated look, and Riz can feel Fabian suddenly tense beside him. Cathilda speaks first.

“I always thought of myself as a surrogate mother to Fabian, when he was little, but I know he didn’t think the same until he was older. I’d say, if your mother loves you, she’ll love you no matter what, amnesia and trauma notwithstanding.” Another darker look passes across her face. “I’d give anything just to see my own... We’re all getting second chances, all the time. The important thing is to hold onto the people you love.”

Hallariel clears her throat and looks at the screens rather than making eye contact, although Riz guesses she’s avoiding Fabian’s eyes rather than his own.

“I know I haven’t always been a good mother. I was too absent in my work, and in... other distractions. I didn’t even realize I was a mother, rather than a creator or researcher, for so long that I missed out on... too many things. If we get second chances, then I certainly need one. Your relationship with your mother will have already changed over time, as you both age. It’s ok if it continues to change. Perhaps you can talk with her about your relationship as you evaluate new variables.”

Riz nods and thanks them, leaning exhaustedly back into Fabian, who goes still for a moment before relaxing. Riz stares at his brain scans with their webbed augmentations, scarring, and the bright burst of activity when Fabian reached out to hold his hand. Riz expected to feel love in his gut or in his heart, but it’s a heady sensation—it makes sense that it would light up his brain. Whatever fuzzy memories or complicated emotions he find in Solace, Riz wants to hold on to this reassurance that he can make new connections in his life and across his battered brain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you want... mad science ladies and lots of technobabble in this AU queer romance? Revising this chapter I realized that nautical woodwork + science art + spaceship is like my ideal home. I *will* fight Gilear for the honor of triangulating this poly lady science team, and I will win.
> 
> I’m on tumblr @the-flail-snail


	16. Time Loops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Several parts of Riz’s life come full circle

It’s only a few more days to Solace, but Riz decides to start testing whether he can trigger any memories. He’s discovered that when he has energy - when his limbs have the strength to work like their supposed to - he’s a bit of a menace. It’s fun, being a menace. He deputizes Adaine and Fabian as Assistant Memory Aide and Vice Assistant Memory Aide, respectively, and ropes in the others as props and players to help him recreate some likely scenarios.

None of them work, at first. He and Adaine try to reenact the moment they pulled Kristen out of a cryostasis pod, but the sight of Kristen lurching up from the “pod” (an old storage crate) in an exaggerated flail of limbs, gasping out “What year is this? Do I have a girlfriend yet?” makes Adaine laugh so hard she has to sit, wheezing, on the floor while BG-Y rolls out of her pocket to beep at her worriedly. But even when they play the situation straight, with Kristen timidly asking where her family is as Adaine prompts Riz through an explanation of the Helioic death cult threatening the planet, Riz doesn’t get any twinges of deja vu. It’s like a story he’s hearing about someone else, not events from his previous life. Adaine suggests that they’re missing too many of the sensations for it to have worked, which makes Riz feel better. He can’t be expected to remember without the frigid air or the sound of distant explosions. And he still cares about Kristen - she saved his life - so maybe he doesn’t need to remember precisely how they met.

Riz moves on to sensation-based memories that took place on the Hangman. Fabian is strangely unhelpful at first, just blushing and stammering when Riz asks if there are any activities they did on the ship together. It takes a moment for Riz to realize. _Oh, he’s - it’s sex. He’s thinking about the sex, that we had. Together. Sex activities._ Riz is pleased he’s picking up on social signals better, and it’s fun to make Fabian flustered. He’s not sure, yet, how he feels about the idea of sex. Sex with Fabian is more promising than sex in general - Riz could find out how Fabian’s skin feels, and how warm his hands are, and... there’s kissing. Kissing sounds good. The rest might just be, kissing plus. Very active kissing that would make Fabian happy. And the closeness would make Riz feel good, like the way he feels when Fabian shaves him and fixes his hair in the mornings. No, the main problem with trying to trigger any sex-themed memories is that Riz doesn’t remember _how_ , isn’t confident in making his new, clumsy body do what he wants, or what _Fabian_ wants, without coming across as awkward. He might get up to Fabian’s room and just, fall over or something. It would be Riz’s first time, but not Fabian’s. Not even Fabian’s first time with Riz.

So when Fabian stops stammering and says, “You saved my life once, from pirates?” Riz leaps at the suggestion. It’s a complicated memory to play out—there are props, and lots of roles to assign, and costumes. Fabian suggests that the others don’t actually need to raid his wardrobe for pirate clothes, but he’s immediately overruled. By popular vote (5-1), Fig is chosen to play Fabian, while Riz plays himself. Fabian begrudgingly accepts the assigned role of Captain Wicklaw, while Adaine, Gorgug, and Kristen are Pirate Thugs 1-3. Fabian points out that he had been fighting more than three pirates during the battle in the hold, but no one believes him.

The scene is set. Fig as Fabian poses with a prop sword in the middle of the cargo hold while Adaine and Kristen circle around her shouting pirate insults like “What ho!” and “Scurvy louts!” Riz, following the script, pops up to point at Gorgug, who dramatically falls over and plays dead, before Riz shouts at “Fabian” to watch out and sneaks behind some crates. On his cue, the real Fabian wraps his arms around Riz from behind and lifts him into the air. The fake tentacles Gorgug made from noodles and pieces of string surround Riz’s face, as Fabian cries out, “Aha! Now surrender, Seacaster, or, um, I’m going to eat these delicious brains.”

The others are giggling from the floor where Fig has pretend-killed them, but as the noodle tentacles come down around his head Riz thinks about the wires running through his brain - the way he really has, in a sense, had parts of his intellect devoured by a ruthless entity - and the shock of that realization, the feeling of his arms pressed against his sides, and a fragment from his dreams of a hooked break against his skull coalesce into a nightmarish memory.

...

he hears Wicklaw’s voice slither inside his head. _Oh, you’re a clever one? I love devouring the clever ones. They always think they can escape. Go ahead, goblin. I’m listening to every panicked thought you have, but maybe you’ll get lucky._

...

Seacaster is begging Wicklaw to let Riz go, promising his cargo, his ship, his cooperation in exchange. Riz allows himself to feel all of the desperate longing he would otherwise refuse to acknowledge. Fabian can’t really intend to risk his ship or his life for a twitchy goblin he’s barely met

...

The stims enter Riz’s bloodstream, and everything speeds up. His thoughts race alongside his heart-rate, half-formed plans, feelings, connections

...

_As long as my heart doesn’t explode, I’ve got this. If my heart does explode, I’m definitely kissing Fabian before I die._

...

“It’s ok, Riz, you’re ok. It’s just me. You’re safe with me.” Riz snaps out of the memory to the feeling of Fabian’s hands lightly stroking up and down his arms.

“You really were fighting more than three pirates at once,” Riz mumbles, and Fabian laughs, startled.

“Not my smartest plan, but it worked for a while. At least, until you came to save me.”

“I was thinking about you,” Riz confesses quietly. Fabian looks confused, missing context. “I mean, when the illithid grabbed me. I distracted him by thinking about how attractive you are, as a cover for my escape plan.”

“You..? Oh!” Fabian looks down, but his mouth twists in a pleased smile. “Well, you’re welcome, of course. Glad to be of assistance. I - I liked you already at that point, but I hadn’t realized you also...” he trails off, embarrassed, realizing they have an audience of grinning friends.

Riz doesn’t have the same level of discomfort—it seems silly to avoid sharing his feelings in front of friends, in this safe place. Not after everything he’s been though. “Yeah, I definitely also.”

There’s a moment, but then Adaine is clearing her throat and Gorgug is earnestly complementing Fig on her performance, and Riz finds himself caught up in a cluster of his friends, haltingly recounting the parts of the fight that came back to him.

Fabian doesn’t avoid him after that—they spend plenty of time together—but they’re part of the group, sharing meals and stories and speculations about the mystery of Riz’s kidnapping. It’s not until much later, just a few hours from their destination, that Fabian catches Riz alone.

Riz is avoiding sleep, again. He would be anyway, but the thought that he’s only hours away from seeing Sklonda has him too keyed up to rest. So, Riz wanders into the navigation room, absently touching the rungs on the ladder up to Fabian’s quarters and frowning at the flash of almost-memory that’s taunting him. When Fabian comes up, he decides to just ask.

“Why would I remember holding onto this ladder? And, you were there? I was.. warm?”

“Uh,” Fabian looks unsure for a moment, and then makes some internal resolution. “There’s one option I can think of. You ok with me touching you again?”

“Yes, of course. Wh-”

And Fabian is lifting Riz up, directing Riz to wrap his legs around Fabian’s torso as he moves forward to pin him against the ladder. Riz, startled, moves his arms up to grasp at a rung above his head in an unconscious echo of the memory that’s starting to fill his mind.

They’re both breathing heavily. “Oh! Are you going to kiss me?” 

“Do you want me to?” Fabian must know that Riz does from the way Riz has been staring at his lips, but he still waits to hear the confirmation out loud.

“Y- yes.”

“You’re sure? I don’t want to push you into anything”

“You mean, other than a ladder?” Riz laughs.

“You know what I mean.” Fabian leans forward but still doesn’t quite make contact. It’s mixing together with Riz’s memory of Fabian, shirt unfastened, hands everywhere, smiling and panting. When Riz finally tilts his face into Fabian it’s an echo of the connection he dimly remembers, but more meaningful, because it’s real and present. In the memory Fabian kisses him passionately, but in this moment it’s tender, just the lightest brush of lips on his before Fabian pulls back to smile at Riz and leans in to kiss him again. Riz does his best to follow, opening his mouth when Fabian does and experimentally licking inside. He brings his hands down from the ladder to clutch at Fabian’s shirt instead, as if he needed to make any effort to bring Fabian’s body closer to his own. In the memory this kiss was leading to... something else that Riz can’t remember, but in this moment there’s no rush to go anywhere. He’s fully prepared to renounce his Solesian citizenship to live on this ladder, with Fabian.

Fabian finally pulls away with a sigh and slides Riz back onto his feet, a blinking light on the console serving as an unwelcome reminder that the rest of the world is waiting on them, and Fabian needs to start landing the ship.

“That was - yes, very effective memory therapy. We should do that again.” Riz isn’t quite sure what to do with himself—what’s the etiquette for ending a kiss?—and finds himself awkwardly reaching out to shake Fabian’s hand. Fabian takes it but tangles their fingers together, pulling Riz’s hand up to kiss his palm.

“We certainly can.” Fabian is pretending to be serious, but Riz can see the flicker of something - a very smug joy - on his face. “Now, Agent Gukgak, it’s time I escort you home. There’s a contact you should meet.”

They disembark onto a familiar hangar in a familiar spaceport, and she’s there. Sklonda Gukgak tosses a disposable coffee into a nearby recycler and hurries forward. She gives Adaine a brief, affectionate hug and nods to Fabian before walking over to Riz and pausing, staring at him like he’s the best thing in the world.

“Hey, kiddo,” her voice cracks with emotion, but she’s keeping some distance, careful of Riz’s boundaries. “I hear you tore XVK a new one. Nice work.”

“Thanks, mom.” Riz has been practicing recognizing and expressing emotions for just this moment, so he doesn’t hesitate. When he moves forward to hug Sklonda something just clicks together. She _smells_ right, even if he can’t remember everything he used to associate with that scent. It’s like his memory fragments of Kristen and Adaine, of Fabian—he doesn’t need to remember why he loves someone to know that he does.

“I missed you, mom.”

“I missed you so much - Adaine explained - we can catch up on whatever you need... wait, what’s...?”

There are Solesian security surrounding them, flashing lights and sinister looking arcublasters at the ready. A contemptuous looking elven woman speaks into a microphone. “Bill Seacaster, you are under arrest for bombing a secure Solesian facility and impersonating an Emergency Responder, along with several decades’ worth of other crimes and misdemeanors. We are impounding your ship and taking you into custody.”

Riz can see the way Fabian’s expression goes blank as soon as the woman calls him by the wrong name, and he’s a little slow to act. Gorgug, Kristen, and Fig rush into the Hangman and Fabian starts to move their direction, but he looks over at Riz and hesitates, just long enough for the security to catch him. Riz hisses at the arresting officers, not caring if they see him as a feral goblin. They’re the ones who brought violence into this supposedly civilized planet, and Riz is going to tear Fabian away from them even if it makes his fingers bleed.

“What the fuck, Angela, did you follow me?” Sklonda looks furious, and Riz can hear her hiss under her breath. “Fabian is, is assisting my son in an undercover operation, and you have no authority to interfere. I’ll have your badge for this.”

Riz feels so close to Sklonda right now, like they’re a pair of avenging goblin angels aligned against this woman and her stupid, wrongheaded bureaucracy. But there’s just the two of them - three, with Adaine, who catches Riz’s eye and tries out an angry hiss of her own - as the Hangman lurches up into orbit under the inexpert control of one of the others, out of reach of the Solesian forces.

Sklonda wraps her arm around Riz as they watch Fabian get taken away. “This is bullshit. We’re going to get him back, I promise.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Other parts of Riz’s post-palimpsest life have had callbacks to earlier chapters, but this is the most explicit—especially Ch 3: Raygun Gothic and Ch 5: Pocket Universe
> 
> I do feel bad for arresting Fabian twice, but it’s temporary, I promise. I wanted to play out some Solace vs. much more feral Riz


	17. Planet Bound

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Riz strategizes and makes himself a nuisance. Fabian flirts.

The first time Riz tries to see Fabian, he’s stopped at the door. A burly security guard looms over him and frowns through Riz’s halting explanation that he’s a government employee and has the right to see his partner. What kind of partner Fabian is to him is left deliberately vague - as Sklonda pointed out, Fabian could conceivably be an undercover contact transporting Riz home. Riz would prefer to tell the truth— _I never paid him, he rescued me, we were in lov- involved_ —but he’ll follow whatever strategy works. But the guard asks for some form of authentication Riz has never even heard of and smugly turns him away. The second time there are two guards. By the fifth time one of them physically picks Riz up and carries him away from the detainment facility without even going through the pretense of listening.

Adaine wants to blow up a building again, a suggestion which has Sklonda clutching her coffee mug in a death grip as she tries to calmly explain the difference in security between a space station holding facility and the planetary detainment center Fabian is currently imprisoned in. Adaine’s eyes flash as she divines several possible scenarios until she winces and reluctantly agrees that a brute force rescue attempt might not be best.

Riz knows they need to be methodical, as much as he wants to join Adaine in enacting fiery vengeance on the people who took Fabian. First, he asks Adaine to get him access to whatever case files and reports exist from his past missions. If he’s going to be calling in all of his debts and favors, he needs to know what they are. It’s an odd sensation, reading through his old case files. For one thing, Riz apparently kept very disorganized notes. Trying to make sense of a third report which trails off into incoherence, Riz pieces together a picture of a life where he came in from a long stint of undercover work and wrote up his results in a state of near collapse before he was almost immediately redeployed. It’s no wonder his body is so used to limited sleep and overdosing on stims. _How long have I been running on fumes?_ Riz’s superiors seem to sign off on the reports without reading them carefully enough to notice. It’s a life of unending, extraordinary service—he saved the planet from near-destruction several times in the past decade—with no recognition or reward beyond the next mission.

There are enough wildly successful exploits that he’s owed any reward he demands—Fabian, by preference—but the trick will be getting anyone to listen to him. It turns out, if all of your adventures are highly classified, there’s no recognition, no medals, no social capital to draw on. To pull off this rescue, Riz needs a plan, and he needs a disguise.

So it’s with great distaste that Riz goes to his closet and pulls out... a vest, suit, and tie. He thinks of it as a disguise, but it’s more like putting on armor. Gearing up for battle, mounting a daring rescue, just as uncomfortable as plate metal to Riz’s still-sensitive skin. The tie and shirt collar chafe at his neck, rows of buttons pinch his fingers, the vest wraps around his torso like it’s binding him in place, to this planet, stealing his breath and his freedom of movement. By the time he’s dressed Riz feels like he’s screwed himself into a vice, but he looks professional, competent. Someone who can make people listen to him.

When Fabian went undercover into a dangerous Korp, he had Fig for backup and his own natural charisma to get him through. Riz will have to rely more on his wits and his rage.

But he’s not alone. Riz assembles Sklonda and Adaine together in Sklonda’s small apartment where they’ve been staying and explains his plan.

“I’m going to go to the Solesian Lunar Council Headquarters and make myself a nuisance until they agree to my demands. I will refuse to leave their offices. I will stand on the furniture. I will be a one man occupation. And for each time they throw me out or refuse to listen, Adaine, I want you to release one piece of the confidential intel we risked our lives for to keep them safe. We’re going to blow this bullshit wide open one way or another.”

Sklonda chokes a bit, but Riz realizes she’s laughing. “Good for you, kiddo. How can I help?”

Riz smiles in relief. It’s been comforting, staying with Sklonda for the past few days. He and Adaine visited his apartment together for clues about how Riz got snatched, but his planet-side home is cold and barely furnished—the only personality coming from all of the traps and counter-surveillance devices Riz spread throughout the empty rooms. Sklonda has been living in the same small apartment since Riz was little, and he feels himself relax at the familiar battered walls and cared for furnishings.

“You’re my woman on the inside, mom. Just, continue sending me any information you can about... how he’s doing.”

Sklonda nods. “I can do that. Just keep me in the loop, and I’ll do whatever I can to help.”

The plan goes... surprisingly well, all things considered. Riz is thrown out of a few reception areas, so he stands directly in front of their glass doors, glaring in with his arms crossed until his opponent gives up and boots him upstairs to be someone else’s problem. His first few meetings with actual authorities go nowhere until Adaine starts trickling information across the net—the true facts behind the Helioic apocalypse cult, Solace’s political ties to unsavory governments, secret tax havens in Fallinel—and suddenly the councilors’ tactics change from stonewalling to shouting. He’s getting under their skin, and it’s a kind of progress. Riz comes home to Sklonda each night exhausted and emotionally drained. They make dinner together and look through old pictures and boxes, assembling clues to piece together some of Riz’s childhood memories. It doesn’t all come back, and likely never will, but it’s enough.

Soon journalists start coming round, which Riz wasn’t expecting. He quickly learns to avoid talking to the ones who want to paint him as a maniac or—somehow more embarrassing—as a lovesick fool in a doomed romance. Most are reporting accurately on his campaign, though—as they should, considering how much news Riz and Adaine have generated recently with their leaks. One reporter gives Riz her card and asks if he’d consider switching professions, after this is over. He pockets it thoughtfully. Riz is not thinking that far ahead—not yet—but it might be interesting to become an intergalactic muckraker. Still, a decision for later, when Fabian is safe.

Stranger still are the people who start to join him. He’s becoming a sort of figurehead for a variety of social movements dissatisfied with the entrenched planetary government. Riz finds himself alternately claimed by a queer rights group, the Solesian young socialists, disability activists, advocates for orcish and goblin rights, anti-prison abolitionists, and a small group agitating for changing the existing laws around cloning. And these people show up for him. Soon Riz’s meetings with the council members have an audience, and more strangers gather outside, holding signs and chanting his name. What started as a one man campaign is quickly becoming a general strike. After a decade learning to hide, it’s overwhelming to be seen by so many people as a kind of hero, or even to be seen at all. Riz fluctuates between being proud of the people from his home planet and frustrated that so many have grievances which are being overlooked. Who was he saving the world _for_ , if not these enthusiastic strangers?

Riz’s publicity and his tenacity finally start to get results, and he’s granted a visit with Fabian. This time, the guards can’t turn him away. He marches through the gates with his head high, and then nervously vomits in a corner. Riz braces himself against the wall, mumbling an apology to his disgusted-looking guard escort, and tries to clear his head as he rinses out his mouth. He’s been running headlong to get to this point for weeks. _Why am I scared now?_ It’s not like Fabian’s going to blame him, or turn him away. It’s probably the dizziness of success, the view from the apogee of his orbit around Solesian politics as he starts to spin homeward. On to Fabian, then. Riz follows the guard to an interrogation room and sits down to wait.

Fabian is escorted in, a little thinner and less dashing in a prison uniform, but alive and healthy. His face lights up when he sees Riz, and has to be restrained from moving towards him. Fabian rolls his eyes at the guards and smiles at Riz as he lets himself be handcuffed to the other end of the long interrogation table.

“Hi,” Fabian says breathlessly, still smiling at Riz. “You’re really here. Welcome to my humble abode.” He moves his wrists like he’s trying to gesture, but he’s prevented by the cuffs keeping his arms in place.

Riz realizes he’s just staring at Fabian and tries to pull himself together.

“They’ve met my first two demands—I’m allowed to see you, and they will stop calling you Bill—and I’m working on getting you formally pardoned and released.” Riz explains in a rush. “Plus, while I’m at it, I might as well get some legal protections for clones passed. Is there... anything you would like? I’ll make a list.”

Fabian quirks an eyebrow at Riz.

“I mean, hi... to you too. I should have started there.”

“It’s fine, Riz. It sounds like you’ve been busy.” Fabian thinks for a moment. “I guess, ability for clones to own property, voting rights, ability to enter into contracts, like marriage. I don’t know, the usual.”

“Right, contracts.” Riz nervously runs his fingers along the edge of the table. “Is that something you...? I mean, if you’d like, we could...?”

Fabian sits forward and interrupts Riz’s dithering. “I’m so sorry, Riz, I should have gotten out of there faster. Don’t know why I hesitated. But I know I’ve made things difficult for you, when you should only be focusing on getting your life back and spending time with your mom.”

Fabian looks so earnest that Riz almost accepts his apology without thinking. “I... what, no! _You_ shouldn’t be apologizing. You were only in this position because of me. I can’t believe I got you arrested _twice_. I promise, this isn’t going to become a habit.”

“Riz, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not fine! You came here, told people I was in danger and they did nothing. They arrested you, just for trying to help. I served this planet for a decade, I bled for them!”

“You bled for them?” Fabian interrupts mid-rant, and Riz can feel his anger deflate slightly.

“I mean, I assume I bled for them? I don’t remember, but it sounds like a spy thing to do. I probably had some really dramatic close calls. Real hero stuff.”

“I’m swooning.” Fabian mimes a dramatic faint, within the limits of his handcuffs, and Riz starts laughing helplessly. He _missed_ this.

“I’ve never been the damsel in distress before.” Fabian raises his eyebrows suggestively. “It’s hot.”

Riz blushes. “Oh, um... yeah. Any other requests while I’m here? Other than voting rights, of course.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves—I don’t even have Solesian citizenship.” Fabian grins, and Riz nearly offers to make Fabian a citizen on the spot. “Last time I was detained your mom brought me some books—mysteries—and I was, kind of in the middle of one when Adaine broke me out. Could you...?”

“I can’t believe I’m dating a nerd,” Riz jokes.

“Come on, Riz, they were _your_ books!” Riz can hear the affection behind Fabian’s protest—that he wants to finish reading because the books belong to Riz, not just because there’s an unfinished mystery.

“Oh, and before I forget, do not, under any circumstances, let Fig pose as my lawyer. She’s going to try to insist, but remind her what happened last time.”

“I think Fig and the others are still piloting The Hangman around.”

“Don’t remind me!” Fabian looks pained. “My beautiful ship! As long as Kristen doesn’t try to pilot, it might be ok?”

Riz’s joking defense of Kristen’s dexterity is interrupted by a message from Adaine.

*I know you’re busy with Fabian, but I think I have a lead on your kidnapping. Meet me at Biz’s tech lab in twenty minutes?*

“Well, duty calls.” Riz reluctantly gets to his feet and nods towards the guards.

“Doesn’t it always.”

Fabian looks a little melancholy, and Riz wracks his brains to think of a way to pull Fabian out of whatever dark mood he’s fallen into. Before the guards can prevent him, Riz moves around the table and tugs at Fabian’s hair to tilt his head back. As Fabian looks up at him, surprised, his hands clenching uselessly in their shackles, Riz says furiously, “I promise, I’m getting you out of here, and then we can leave this planet, go anywhere you want. I can be oath-bound to any place, as long as it’s with you.”

The guards pull him away, but not before Riz leans forward to kiss Fabian, channeling all of his love and frustration into this brief touch. Fabian looks a bit dazed as he’s led away, but he grins back at Riz and mouths, “I’ll hold you to that.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was tough to write, but I’m pleased with the way it turned out. Definitely replacing “spy tactics” with “union and whistleblower tactics” for the purposes of the plot. I guess the wish fulfillment aspect of this as a fanfic is extending beyond “slow burn romance” into “political coalition building.”


	18. Ghosts in the Machine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> My outline for this chapter for a long time just said "Biz gets fucking annihilated and Adaine has Big Adaine Energy," so that that's it, that's my chapter summary
> 
> Major CW for Biz’s creepy brand of nonconsensual voyeurism, dissociation, and canon-typical violence.

Riz peers up at the flickering neon and argon sign to “Biz’s Arcade” and wonders at what point in history the meaning of the word arcade shifted from passages enclosed with glass and wrought iron to dark rooms lit only by the pulsing colors of game screens to these strange emporiums showcasing the newest holographic artworks. It’s a strange progression from natural to artificial light. Riz hasn’t interacted with a hologram since he _was_ one, and he’s not sure he wants to face that trauma so soon. He takes comfort in the way his jaw tightens and his guts clench because it means he’s still flesh, blood, and bone. He’s not exactly natural, anymore—not with the web of disconnected wires running through his head—but he’s no longer made of light and nothingness.

He’s sure he must have been here before, but nothing about this place seems familiar. Adaine said Biz was an occasional contact, although the way her mouth twisted as she said it told him enough about Biz’s character and competency to know that he must not contact him often. Adaine isn’t here yet, which troubles Riz. He’s never known her to be late before—their shared struggles with anxiety usually have them both arriving an hour before everyone else. Riz dithers on the doorstep for a few more minutes before giving up and entering. Maybe Adaine is already inside? She’s been in hiding since they started coordinating their leaks of confidential government information—she has a hacker friend who can help her disappear off the grid like a ghost—so it’s been a few weeks since she and Riz were in the same place. Riz was looking forward to seeing her.

The inside of the Arcade is deserted and dark and dusty. Riz’s paranoia flares up—this is a trap, a front for something dubiously legal. He takes a breath and reigns himself in. He has no reason to suspect Biz of anything. He’s an infrequent contact, just a virtual art enthusiast who has no reason to keep his arcade lit up after closing hours. He’s probably working on something at the back. Riz takes a cautious step forward. As he moves, something flickers to life just behind him, and Riz whirls, heart in his throat and arcublaster in his hand, and then laughs at his own paranoia. It’s just a hologram, triggered by Riz’s movement or proximity. He watches as an intricately detailed holographic flower buds and blooms and decays, petals breaking apart into fractals of light as they fall. There’s no sound, and Riz quickly realizes the flower is on an endless loop, always already dying as it regrows. Riz takes another cautious step forward, better prepared now as another hologram to his left lights up at his movement. This time it’s the birth of a nebula, sped up to be perceptible to the eye. Dust, gas, particles attract and swirl together, forming stars and planets, expanding until the image freezes and the hologram restarts. Another step reveals a rocket exploding mid-flight. Another, the uncannily swift decomposition of an animal corpse. Another, a chain of DNA unwinding. Another, blood dripping slowly down a thin wrist. Each hologram Riz triggers keeps up its endless loop as he picks his way through the maze of displays, and Riz feels uncomfortably exposed—backlit by silent projections as he squints forward into the darkness.

Riz has almost adjusted to the silent images but he still starts when the next display lights up to show a humanoid figure. It’s an astronaut, suited up in one of those retro spacesuits from the early days of aeronautics. The astronaut reaches up to the clamps of its fishbowl helmet and drops it to the side, and… it’s a woman. She looks like Adaine, almost, or maybe Aelwen? Riz worries, suddenly, that this _is_ Adaine—that she’s trapped in a hologram like he had been. But this image lacks the photorealistic accuracy of the previous holograms in the room. Her hair is too long, and swirls around her head in improbable shiny waves, and her mouth is too wide, stretched into a sultry expression that Riz is sure he’s never seen Adaine make. He watches, uncomfortably, searching for clues as the not-Adaine astronaut continues to strip off parts of her spacesuit, until Riz suddenly realizes that she’s not going to stop stripping—already down to a thin undershirt and pants, which, honestly, seems unrealistic considering how uncomfortable and stiff parts of the spacesuit look, and Adaine’s preference for baggy, comfortable clothing, and… Riz turns away, feeling sick. Everything about this hologram is wrong, invasive. A private fantasy is one thing, but this public display…

Riz spins away so quickly that he almost runs through the next holographic figure, which… it’s _him_ this time. He’s not featuring in some twisted erotic peep show, thank goodness, but this hologram looks exactly like him, down to the smallest details, but dressed like the old Riz, the one who could wear fancy suits and ties without flinching at the texture of his own clothing. The hologram in front of him gives Riz a distant smile and opens its mouth, but even with the warning Riz still yelps in surprise as he hears it speak.

“I am your personal artificial aide. My capacities include predictive analysis, data collation, and investigation. My designation is RZ-01. My default name is ‘Riz,’ but you may program me to respond to any name.”

“You.. what? No, _I’m_ Riz. You’re just… just a figment, or a copy or…”

The hologram just looks at him quizzically as Riz starts to hyperventilate. Maybe he’s not who he thinks he is—not really. Riz already knew he was missing important chunks of his past. It’s entirely possible that he’s been a faulty duplicate this whole time. Riz feels cold, distant from his body, if it even is _his_ body. He could be the ghost, possessing a body and a life he’s stolen from.. from some other Riz who…

“No, I am Riz Gukgak. I’m 31, I was born in Solace. My mom is Sklonda Gukgak. She’s a detective. My dad was Pok Gukgak. I’m dating the coolest smuggler in the system. My friends are all dorks who are probably crashing our spaceship right now. I… I’m not… I’m _me_. I deserve to have the life that I have.”

He can hear the hologram repeating after him, a creepy emotionless echo of Riz’s litany. It’s unnerving, but unnerving in a deeply suspicious way.

 _Ok, someone is fucking with me._ Riz draws his arcublaster and slips into the shadows behind the displays. He’s angry, now—angry in the way he got when he was first back in his body, unable to fully process having the kind of emotional responses that twist into the flesh of a body. Angry enough to tear this place apart. Riz makes his way to a nondescript door at the back of the arcade without activating any of the other displays, his eerie holographic double still whispering “I am Riz Gukgak… I deserve… I have…” behind him.

Riz pauses at the doorway to get his bearings. Unlike the dark emptiness of the arcade, Biz’s lab space is a mess of cords and equipment and mostly empty take-out containers, lit up by a strange power source in the center of the shop. Riz doesn’t see Biz, but he immediately spots Adaine. She’s clearly the real Adaine because she looks furious, beating her fists against the surface of a crystalline tube she’s trapped inside. Even at this distance, Riz can see smears of blood on the surface where she’s punched the crystal until her knuckles split open. He knows it will break his cover, but Riz cannot hang back and let Adaine get hurt. He takes careful aim and shoots at the power source, blowing out a panel on its side in a blast of sparks and fusing what he hopes are important bits of wire and circuitry together. It works, and the barrier between him and Adaine frizzes and cracks open. She’s immediately at Riz’s side, digging into her pockets for a weapon. She doesn’t waste time on a greeting, but still gives Riz a relieved smile as she gestures upwards.

“He’s somewhere up there—float chair.”

Riz nods and scans the high ceiling for movement. He thinks he spots Biz and shoots, only to realize there are holograms in here as well—deceptive flickers of light masking Biz’s position. Riz hisses through his teeth in frustration.

“Bastard. Get down here, you fucking creep.”

Adaine aims a small explosive upward, but misses as well. Riz feels a sudden flash of pain in his shoulder—a blaster shot that went wide, just glancing off his skin. He tracks the blast back to it’s owner. Biz is floating just above them, swearing softly to himself as he readjusts his sweaty grip on a blaster while his other hand flies over some controls built into his float chair. Riz makes eye contact briefly and nudges Adaine. She narrows her eyes as she throws up a device which fills the room with a flash of light. Riz’s muscle memory kicks in, and he shields his eyes in time, but Biz is left blinking blindly in the afterglow. Riz takes aim at the float chair and shoots, watching in grim satisfaction as Biz tumbles down.

As he stands over Biz, struggling on the floor under the wreckage of his crashed float chair, Riz feels… nothing. He’s numb, still disconnected from his body as if he was the one who crashed down from above. The anger is still there, but it’s muted, distant. He feels himself lift his blaster and take aim, shooting a burning hole through the center of Biz’s hand. It feels appropriate—Biz should lose something, for hurting Adaine, for hurting Riz, and rending his clever hands into a twitching mess of burned flesh and severed nerves is right, it’s what he deserves. Riz moves his blaster dispassionately to the other hand, only dimly registering the smell of burning, Biz’s whimpers of pain, Adaine’s hand on his shoulder. But he hesitates when Adaine’s voice starts to penetrate his haze of anger and pain and distant satisfaction at dispensing justice.

“Riz, please, we can just… He’s a creep, but he’s not worth it. We need to focus on getting Fabian out of jail, not getting you locked up with him.”

Riz closes his eyes and takes a shaky breath in and out. He knows Adaine is right, but it’s so much easier not to listen. He’s dimly aware that Biz is begging now, a pathetic stream of apologies and justifications.

“Are you recording this?” Riz asks Adaine, lowering his blaster and leaning back into her touch. “We could… there’s intel here.”

Adaine squeezes his shoulder and gently takes the blaster out of Riz’s grip. He lets her.

“Yes, I’m recording. We’ve got what we need—more than we needed, actually, to get this guy locked up for a while.” She shivers. “He’s a real nutcase.”

Riz hopes that she came in through a different door—that Adaine didn’t have to see the museum of creepy, silent images—but he suspects she saw everything and is still willing to let Biz live, not out of a sense of mercy, but because they need the information in his head, the link back to XVK and the missing women. Riz lets Adaine take charge, calling in Sklonda for reinforcement and investigating Biz’s computers. Riz stands over Biz until Skonda arrives, and then quietly ducks away. He methodically goes through each holographic display, pulling out cords and smashing crystals until there’s nothing left but the first hologram—the flower cycling through its own growth and decomposition—although Riz isn’t sure why he feels like sparing that one. Skonda comes to find him eventually, wrapping him up in a hug without having to ask how he’s doing.

“Weird day,” Riz finally manages, and he can feel his mom chuckle.

“Come on, kiddo, let’s get you home. Adaine’s taken off, but she said she’d call later, to decompress.”

Riz lets Skonda take the lead, taking a deep breath once they’re outside under the stars.

“Mom, I might… after this, I might go away for a bit? Away from Solace, I mean.”

Sklonda nods like she expected this announcement.

“That’s ok. You’re always welcome to visit. Or maybe I could come visit you—I’m due for a galactic vacation.”

Riz smiles to himself, trying to imagine taking his mom on a tour of any of the strange corners of the galaxy he’s visited recently. Well, she might like meeting Fabian’s strange moms, or visiting the Black Pit—Sklonda’s definitely cool enough for that—or maybe she’d like Gorgug’s gnome collective family.

Riz looks up and feels a sense of longing so strong it’s almost painful—he doesn’t want to be tied to this planet, these politics, these problems any more. There are still loose ends, and Riz isn’t about to leave a case partially finished, but he’ll feel better—think clearer—once he’s back in space, with the mix of old and new companions he’s found. _Soon_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have mixed feelings about Biz as a villain in canon--he seems to have simultaneously gotten off lightly and been hurt quite badly. Since he's a more significant villain in this fic, I wanted to think through that conflict a little more.
> 
> I'm also a total dork for 19th century architectural history and media history, so, uh, there's a bit of that in this chapter. Walter Benjamin eat your hear out (heh, grad school humor).
> 
> Thanks to everyone who reads and leaves kudos and comments on this! It's hard for me to focus on writing right now, but your feedback really means a lot to me!


	19. Scientific Romance

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reunions and Conversations

Riz is still exhausted and withdrawn at the press event for Fabian’s release, although he tries to make an effort to appear relaxed, for Fabian’s sake and the sake of everyone watching. Riz is increasingly uncomfortable being in the spotlight. There’s some satisfaction in a successful mission, in seeing Fabian stride out of the jail with a grin and a flourish as he swings his newly recovered coat across his shoulders, but he’s weary of the press of cheering supporters. To his surprise, Fabian doesn’t seem interested in basking in the attention, pulling Riz aside after the first few speeches and leaning close.

“You want to sneak back to our ship?”

“Right now? Shouldn’t we…?” Riz tilts his head toward the crowds, feeling guiltily like he owes them something still.

“They can congratulate each other well enough without us.”

“Well, alright then,” Riz scans the crowd for an opening, using the opportunity to grab at Fabians hand and pull him after. “Follow me.”

They make it all the way to the space elevator without incident, the sounds of the crowds fading as Fabian pulls the door shut behind them and the elevator begins its ascent away from the planet’s surface. There are a few other passengers, but Riz and Fabian are able to get a corner to themselves. Riz leans back against the wall and closes his eyes while Fabian takes in the view as the elevator shoots upward. He hasn’t released Riz’s hand, and Riz makes no move to let go himself.

Fabian clears his throat a few times before speaking. “You seemed like you needed to get out of there. You aren’t going to collapse on me again?”

Riz looks over, confused. “When did I collapse on you the first time?”

“Oh, I guess, before.”

They’re both silent while Riz runs through possible scenarios. Did he collapse in a battle? Was it just his habitual sleep deprivation? Has he collapsed multiple times? That would be embarrassing. After a minute Fabian tries again.

“Look, I know that sleep isn’t really a concept you’re familiar with, but you look more tired than usual. Is everything ok?”

Riz groans and pushes his forehead into Fabian’s shoulder. “No, not really. I…” He’s not sure how to explain. “I hurt someone.”

“On purpose, or…?” Fabian trails off as Riz nods. “Ok. Someone who deserved it?”

“Yeah, but that’s hardly the point,” Riz explains, muffled into Fabian’s arm. “Adaine and I tracked down the guy responsible for putting me in the crystal, and I - I lost control, a bit.”

Riz can feel Fabian brush his fingers lightly across Riz’s knuckles and he tries not to think of how badly he butchered Biz’s hand.

“I’m hardly in a position to judge your morals, Riz. At my best I’m a semi-reformed pirate.”

Riz shakes his head. “That’s not - The worst part is, it felt familiar. Like I’d been in that position before—standing over someone after they’d surrendered and making the call that they’re too dangerous to live. I thought it was just important to recover my memories of friends, family…” _You._ “But it seems monstrous that I don’t even remember how many people I’ve killed. I don’t think whatever code of honor I was living by was very good for me.”

He can tell that Fabian is looking down at him, but refuses to make eye contact.

“Do you need me to absolve you of your crimes, or reassure you that you can change, or just sit with you?”

“Just be here. I need some time, and - and some distance.” Riz feels Fabian start to move away, and quickly corrects himself. “Some distance from this planet, dummy—not from you.”

“Oh, well, that’s good.” Fabian settles back and tentatively wraps his arm around Riz. “You’ve broken me out of prison twice now, and the pirate code is pretty clear about repaying favors like that.”

Riz snorts. “You made that up.”

“No, the pirate code is a very real and very complicated document. Even the subclauses have subclauses. I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

Riz snuggles closer. His anxieties about his past seem more manageable with Fabian around. Riz wonders if it’s the comfort of knowing Fabian is navigating his own doubled identity. Even when he’s struggling Fabian makes it seem graceful—a dance with a warped mirror-self. _Well, I can learn to dance._ The trick seem to be always taking the lead, keeping that dizzying speed and forward momentum. Riz admires the way Fabian makes an entrance, putting his opponents off balance with the sheer force of his personality. Maybe Riz can learn to do the same. He imagines striding into a situation like Fabian would, loudly announcing that he is Riz Gukgak, an intergalactic… something. Spy? Investigator? Reporter? Riz brushes his fingers against the business card in his pocket, remembering that he came out of this mess with a job offer. He laughs to himself, trying to organize his thoughts at Fabian’s inquisitive hum.

“I just realized, I think I borrowed your tactics, back with the Solesian Council. I basically showed up and said my name at people until I got results.”

Fabian chuckles. “Yeah, but you had backup, and an actual plan, which I rarely do. I like your version better.”

The space elevator eventually deposits them near the ship hangars. Fabian nods politely at a series of spaceport officials as they exit, greeting them by name as they look up, startled and guilty. Riz rolls his eyes, but Fabian just grins down at him.

“Allow me my moment of pettiness—they never bothered to get my name right, so I promised myself I would learn every one of theirs.”

The Hangman doesn’t seem any worse for wear when they reach it, Kristen, Fig, and Gorgug are milling around outside catching up with Adaine. Fabian smiles at everyone but doesn’t stop for hugs, hurrying forward to run his fingers along the bulkhead. Riz can see him visibly relax.

“Do I need to take a tour, or have you layabouts left my ship unmolested?” Fabian asks He doesn’t wait for an answer—already moving through the ship, reassuring himself that everything is roughly where he left it. Riz is reminded that this ship is Fabian’s home, more than any other place in the galaxy.

Fig and Kristen initially seem like they want to throw a party, but someone picks up on Riz’s mood and the celebrations are delayed until they can get far away from Solace. And honestly, everyone seems a little exhausted—weeks of protesting and waiting and dodging Solesian patrol ships taking its toll. People break off into smaller groups or leave for their own corners of the ship, promising to celebrate their reunion later.

Riz finds himself trailing after Fabian, not entirely sure what to do with himself. They’re a couple now, right? They both _almost_ said so, on several occasions. And being a couple entails certain… arrangements. It’s likely Fabian won’t want to share his bed with an insomniac, but Riz should… ask? He’s definitely going to open his mouth and ask.

Or, he’s going to open his mouth and close it again, because Fabian is looking back at him fondly, and it’s just a little difficult to form words right now.

Maybe they can bypass a conversation. Riz reaches up to twist his fingers into the front of Fabian’s pirate coat and tugs at his lapels until Fabian leans over. They’ve only kissed twice before. Or perhaps they’ve kissed many times, but Riz tries not to psych himself out by remembering how much more practiced Fabian is at kissing—even at kissing _Riz—_ than Riz is at kissing anyone. He must be muddling through it alright, though, because Fabian is making desperate, breathy noises and chasing after Riz’s mouth whenever he pulls away. Riz finds himself up into Fabian’s quarters and up into Fabian’s arms without entirely being aware of the steps he took to get there. He feels a sudden spike of anxiety—Fabian seems to be enjoying himself, but Riz wants to be able to live up to whatever past trysts they had—the kind of encounters that made Fabian travel halfway across the galaxy and risk everything to get Riz back. As much as Riz wants to be suave, he decides it’s smarter to gather data.

“How do you…? I’m sure we did this many times. Is there something you…? You want, or want to replicate, or…? I want this second first time with you to be good,” Riz manages to gasp out around kisses.

Fabian pulls back, and Riz takes a moment to appreciate how happily mussed he looks. _I did that. Mine._

“We don’t have to repeat what we did before, Riz,” Fabian reassures, running his fingers through Riz’s hair in a way that makes Riz want to melt. “I mean, that was a great night, but it’s enough for me that you’re here now.”

Riz hums contentedly at the sentiment and leans into Fabian again, before realizing something is off and leaning back.

“Wait, what? A great _night_? Like a single night?” Fabian looks confused, so Riz tries to explain. “Fabian, I assumed we had a much longer relationship. Or maybe it was off and on, but… How long have you even known me? Did we only sleep together once?”

“Um, well, I suppose it was one occasion, but multiple, er, there were some multiples throughout the night. We don’t have to talk about this right now. Or, ever, if it makes you uncomfortable.” Fabian looks a little harried himself.

“What? No, we’re going to have a conversation about this.” Riz clambers down from Fabian’s arms to get a better perspective on his body language, feeling dizzily like he needs all of the intel he can get. “You mean, I’ve been spending all this time thinking we had an epic, long-lasting romance, and that I couldn’t possibly live up to, to whatever memories you had. When in reality we were, what, a one night stand?”

“A really good one night stand!” Fabian interjects. “I’m sorry if I… I may have implied we were a couple to get your mom to trust me. In my defense, you were in danger. I would have said something earlier, but you were adjusting to everything else, and it seemed like, I don’t know, the wrong moment.”

“That’s not… really the issue here. I don’t need you to _apologize_ for anything.” Riz isn’t sure what he needs from Fabian right now. He starts laughing a little hysterically—all of his worries about not living up to Fabian’s expectations seem absurd now. If the weight of years of shared history is lifted, then Riz can just be his awkward self, no pressure to do anything other than start a tentative new relationship.

Fabian is still trying to explain. “I think we were just both a little lonely, and we really connected. There’s something about sharing a journey, and a battle, and closely-guarded secrets. It wasn’t _just_ a one night stand. I mean, it technically was, but…”

“Nothing you say will ever make me stop teasing you about this,” Riz says, smiling. “I, what, picked you up in a bar once and you fell for me so hard that you risked your life, your freedom, and your identity to get me back?”

Fabian grins, sheepishly, beginning to see the humor in the situation. “In my defense, I didn’t realize I was in love with you until later. And you were really matching me for the dramatic gestures there, for a while.”

Riz laughs. “That’s fair. I guess I did fight an entire planetary government for you. But I never pretended to be someone I’m not. I think you risked more.”

Fabian doesn’t try to argue that point—it’s clear to both of them that pretending to be his own progenitor took more courage than a straightforward fight would.

“Well, make it up to me—I’ve heard the most romantic gesture you can make is overthrowing a rogue AI and dismantling a korp.” Fabian winks.

Riz groans. “I’m not arguing with that, but I have no idea how to even start. How do you fight an AI? Kalvaxus isn’t just a single enemy, we’re trying to take down a _system_. It would take a coordinated effort, and more intel…” Riz starts to pace, fitting together steps in his head. First, get the salvagepunk gnome collective on board. Tap Dr. Seacaster and Cathilda for more medical tests. Follow up on the procurement side of things—how are the kidnapped people being transported? Aelwen Abernant could be a useful lead, if they can track her down. They’ve got a fast ship and a good crew, and they’ve pulled off a rescue once before. Riz doesn’t realize he’s planning out loud until Fabian starts laughing at him.

“Riz, you told me once you liked being a spy because it means you can solve puzzles, as a team—to be part of something larger. It’s good to see you brainstorm, but do we have to do this now?” Fabian flops down on his bed, stretching his arms out and sighing. “I missed this bed and this view—I don’t recommend prison accommodations.” He smiles over at Riz. “Care to join me?”

Riz can feel himself blush, and he almost trips over his own feet in his hurry to cross the room. A comfortable bed under a canopy of stars is certainly an improvement over the small cot in Sklonda’s home office that Riz has been sleeping on, when he slept at all in the hectic past weeks. But the real draw is the chance to touch Fabian, no guards or holograms or commitments in the way this time. Just a free stretch of time to “scientifically test the extent of Riz’s new sensitivity,” as Fabian jokes. Riz can only respond that real scientists repeat their experiments, to get more data and test more variables. Fabian enthusiastically agrees.

Afterwards, Riz is physically wrung out but his brain is buzzing with new ideas, and only Fabian’s arms are keeping him from launching himself off the bed to start his investigation.

“Riz, you’re going to get a full night’s sleep if I have to physically restrain you,” Fabian yawns into Riz’s collarbone.

“Don’t pretend you don’t love it when I’m solving a mystery,” Riz jokes. His own wording catches in his thoughts, and he remembers a loose thread from their earlier conversation.

“You, said you love me?”

“Hmm?” Fabian mumbles, making no effort to pull himself back from his boneless doze. “Yeah, love you.”

“No, Fabian, wake up properly,” Riz pokes at Fabian’s chest until he does, rolling over to pin Riz to the bed.

“Again already? Riz, I get it, I’m a very sexy pirate, but I need to rest at some point.”

“Fabian, you love me?” Riz looks intently up at Fabian, not wanting to miss any shift in expression. “Or, you _loved_ me? From before?”

“Um, yes and no?” Fabian rolls them both so that they’re face to face on the bed and reaches over to push Riz’s hair back behind one ear. “Did I not make that clear? I guess I realized I was in love with you when—this is gonna sound really pathetic, when you were a hologram.”

“Yeah? You’ve got some sort of VR fetish?” Riz jokes, but he realizes Fabian is serious.

“When you were… It meant I was paying a lot of attention to the parts of you that were missing, and the parts that still felt like you. I probably fell for you earlier, but it took me a while to realize. The first time we met, you were hiding parts of yourself. And then you had parts of yourself stripped away. And then you had to figure out which selves you wanted to be. But I think I loved each iteration of you I met, not just the prototype.” Fabian curls his hand around the back of Riz’s head, not avoiding contact with the metal of the disconnected bioport in the back of his skull. “I’m going to keep falling in love with you, Riz, as many times as I need to.”

Riz feels like he’s going to glitch trying to process the emotions rising through his chest.

“Well, I’d better stick around then. But you’re a very singular person, so I’m only falling in love with you once,” he promises.

“I’m counting on it.” Fabian smiles and pulls Riz close. “I’ll handle the ship—you pick the direction. I can get you wherever you need to go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe this is finally finished. I've left it a little open ended, in case I want to return to this AU sometime. I'm definitely interested in what the sci-fi versions of Fig and Gorgug's character arcs could be, if that's something people would want to read? I'm completely blown away by how much people responded to this fic, which really started as a purely self-indulgent romp through one of my favorite genres. Thank you so much for reading!


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